It’s immediately agreed upon that their outfits need to match the theme of their newest adventure, which leads them to a costume shop only a street away from the park. Tutus matching Neil’s, only in a shade of deep purple, is used as the equivalent of bridesmaid dresses for the girls. Meanwhile, Al and red shirt make due with twin, neon yellow bow ties. Then for the fiancés, they add a little something extra. That something extra being a plastic tiara with a short, white veil tucked into Neil’s curls and a large button with the word ‘Mr’ emblazoned on it stuck to the front of Al’s jacket.

It isn’t until they scrounge up a cluster of fake leaves and a package of glittery twisty straws that they finally file out of the shop and back into the car. Angry girl uses them to create an impromptu and… unique bouquet as they barrel down the street to their next, and second most important stop of the night. After all, what wedding doesn’t come with a pair of rings?

The jeweler is put off by their arrival, trying to be polite even as their gaggle of a drunken wedding party stumble in at a volume just a few levels too loud. Neil and Al separate from the rest, supporting themselves with an arm around each other’s shoulders, to amble over to the display cases. Eyeing them like a hawk, the jeweler trails after every step they make and occasionally glances up at the five others hanging around by the door. Paying it no mind, Neil leans over one section containing rings, letting go of Al to press his nose and both hands to the glass. His eyes lazily drag over the selection, his vision significantly blurrier than it had been not too long ago.

“Which one are we getting?” He mumbles loud enough for Al, who bends at the knees and copies Neil in pushing his face against the display case.

“Uhhhhhm… Dunno. Do you like diamonds?” Al asks squinting at one particularly large stone that is clearly not a diamond.

“Nah, not really. Too much muchness.” Neil answers, resulting in a hum from his fiancé.

“Something kinda blah, then?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

They stay like that for a few more seconds before unsticking themselves from the glass, leaving behind clear prints from where their skin met the case. The two clumsily shake hands in a business like manner while nodding to each other in agreement. Turning to the jeweler, whose face twitches with how they try to keep a polite expression, Neil and Al take turns getting their ring sizes measured. Proceeding onto the part where they actually pick the rings, Neil grimaces when he hears a large number he doesn't like right out the gate, and waddles over to the rest of the group, letting Al handle the rest.

He stands beside beer girl who leans against the front door at a weird angle. At some point between them leaving the costume shop and showing up here, she had shimmied the tutu up to rest around her neck. It looks like what old, rich people used to wear in medieval times and Neil mentally appreciated the look. She made it work somehow.

“So, wedding, huh?” She slurs, sliding her gaze over to meet his. “Excited?”

“I don’t know. Just something to do, I guess.” Neil shrugs, the overhead lights starting to make a dull ache thrum in the front of his skull, encouraging him to shut his eyes.

“Nice. Nice.” She pauses and after a beat he feels a poke to his shoulder. “Hey, can I be a groomsman?”

“Uhhhh… I don’t see why not, we only got one of those right now anyway. We could use an extra. Make it even.” He opens his eyes in time to catch her punch the air in triumph, making a smile crawl onto his face.

It’s not too long before Al makes his way over to their entourage with a small, polka dotted bag and a beaming grin. They all take that as their cue to leave, wasting no time shuffling out of the shop, much to the jeweler's relief. There’s only one last place to go and music blasts from the radio all the way there, pouring out into the wind as they speed onward. Bubbly pop songs can barely be heard over the screaming voices singing along to it.

Everything is a blur until a church comes into view. The building is an old looking thing with a tall, white spire reaching toward the sky. Stained glass windows reflect fragments of color onto the sidewalk, and a cross glows from where it’s installed above the front door. The church is smaller than the buildings beside it, yet the size and beauty of it is lost on the six people tripping out of the car and up the stairs to the entrance.

They make a train, hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them, and wobble one after another into the church. The chain is led by red shirt who walks with the same confidence he’s carried the entire night. Inside is as intricate and lovely as the outside, only a few people occupying the pews with heads bowed in various states of prayer. A man dressed in a priest's robes, standing by the altar, looks up at the group coming in and freezes in place. He stares long and hard at the group with furrowed brows.

Whatever he’d been doing prior is abandoned as he steps down to the aisle and makes his way over to them, mouth opening in preparation to say something. He only makes it a few feet away from them before he halts, mouth clicking shut as he turns squinting eyes at red shirt.

“What- Ray? What are you doing here, and why do you look like you’re drunk out of your mind?” The priest’s tone of voice sounds less than pleased.

Red shirt- Ray, apparently- pulls away from the train to make his way up to the priest. Without the group's support, he nearly tilts over sideways and onto the ground, the priest catching him by the arms just in time.

“Heyyyy bud! You’re an ordi- ordon- hm.” Ray fumbles, jabbing a finger into the priest’s chest with each attempt at trying to say the right word. The antics earn him an eye roll.

“Ordained minister?”

“That! Yeah- hey, so my buddies over here-” He moves his hand away from poking at the chest to jerk a thumb at Al and Neil. “wanna get married and I know that’s something you church people do.”

The priest looks up at the fiancés in question and his expression remains flat and unamused. He takes a second to scan the rest of them before redirecting his attention back to Ray who clings to his robes and gradually sinks toward the floor. By this point the occupants of the church have already left, bothered by all the noise, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

“You’re all clearly drunk. You shouldn’t be doing something so life changing while under the influence. Did they even fully consent to getting married?” At his scrutiny, Ray’s head rolls back and he leans so far out of the priest’s arms the man has to hastily readjust his hold lest he let go.

“Yo, did you guys consent to getting hitched?” He slurs, looking at the two through half lidded eyes. With both hands occupied with trying to keep Ray from falling, the priest is unable to facepalm and settles on a frustrated groan.

“Uh… yes?” Neil looks at Al who looks back at him, face a little slack and eyes glossy. “We still doing this?”

“Heck yeah, man!” Al whips his head to the front and raises a fist to the air with a loud war cry. “Consent!”

“That’s not- will you get off me?!” The priest dumps Ray into one of the pews and straightens out his robes. “That’s not really what I meant by that.”

“Aw, c’mon! Look at these two, don’t they look helplessly in love? You can let them have this can’t you?” Bella whines, only standing thanks to the hands on her shoulders from the group chain.

“They look like something, that’s for sure.” The priest sighs again, this one sounding heavier and more tired than before. He brings up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Y’know what? Fine. Some lessons need to be learned the hard way and you can always divorce. Follow me then.”

With the reluctant agreement, but agreement regardless, and a sweeping arm gesture, the drunken wedding party cheers and stumbles alongside the priest. Despite the initial disapproval, it isn’t too long before the priest also finds himself infected by the bright energy swirling around from the group.

What happens for the wedding isn’t something fancy or even remotely organized. The priest takes his time positioning every member in front of the pew. Al has his two groomsmen listing dangerously behind him and Neil has his two bridesmaids leaning against each other. The alpha holds his little bag from the jewelry store while the beta grips his makeshift bouquet of plastic leaves and twisty straws.

It doesn’t even take ten minutes. The priest figures it easier to not read the whole wedding spiel, instead skipping to the important bits. The part where the grooms are meant to repeat after the priest goes shakily as they just barely manage to do so, mispronouncing some words or forgetting them entirely. It somehow works out and they finally get to put on the rings.

Al pulls two small boxes from the bag that he lets flutter to the floor. He hands Neil one box, pauses, flicks his own box open, then closes it and quickly swaps them. Not thinking twice about it, Neil takes out the ring given to him and hands the empty box to whichever bridesmaid is closest to him. Al follows suit and they face each other, a thin silver band held gingerly between their fingers.

Neil blinks when Al reaches for his hand and slides the ring onto Neil’s finger. It’s the wrong finger and it’s done clumsily, but it makes it there. Neil does the same with even less efficiency, taking a few tries to actually get the ring on Al. Once that’s over and done with, the priest begins to finish up the ceremony.

“You may now… uh, kiss? I suppose? Or not, I don’t care.” The priest huffs out. The officially married couple takes no note of his tone, grinning brightly and sealing the deal with a poorly coordinated fist bump. The cheers that follow are almost deafening, echoing across the church walls.

Bella had requested pictures before they began the ceremony, so now the priest finds himself playing makeshift cameraman. With only minimal complaint, he captures the individual moments of the post wedding in all its drunken and messy glory. Flickers of Neil tossing the bouquet, caught by angry girl and thrown to the ground like it’s a football and she’s just made a touchdown. Newlywed husbands dancing to imaginary music, hands interlocked, rings glinting under the lights. All of them trying to spell the word ‘party’ and doing so incorrectly, along with a couple of other creative poses. It’s quite the ordeal.

Eventually the energy starts to die down. Al is discussing some extra details with the priest while Ray hauls a passed out beer girl out of the pew she’s laying upside down in. One by one, they drag themselves out of the church, a ‘good riddance’ called out behind them, and load back up into the car.

The ride back is significantly more subdued than anything they’ve done that night. No one sings over the radio that’s been turned down, and they let themselves enjoy the ambience. It’s a miracle that Ray is able to get them to their drop off spots with minimal trouble. By the time Neil’s hotel pulls into view, nausea begins to roll through his stomach.

Neil gives his husband another fist bump and waves to the others, shooting a thumbs up to angry girl who now dons the veil and tattered bouquet. He pitches out of the car, catching himself from nearly colliding with the concrete, and heads toward the front of the building. As soon as he reaches the clear double doors, he peeks over his shoulder to find the car and its occupants already out of sight. Walking like a zombie through the hotel, the nausea comes to a peak when he gets to his room and he succumbs to it on the carpet, promptly tumbling into his bed and passing out.