Chapter Text
“Hey,” his smile was absolutely dazzling to Stiles. “I loved your moves back there.”
“You mean when I almost smacked you in the face?” he laughed, a little too loudly through his haze of alcohol, though the music thumping in the club proved to be a blessing.
“Yeah,” the guy chuckled beautifully. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. I’m Logan by the way.”
“Stiles, I’m Stiles,”
“Nice to meet you Stiles.”
-
“This is nice...” Stiles looked around, the place fancy enough to make him conscious of his attire.
Logan sipped his wine casually. “Thanks, it’s mine.”
Stiles chocked on absolutely nothing. “What-what do you mean yours?”
“I’m an investor, I invest in dying things and build them to be...well, this.” he gestured around the room with his finger. “I have somewhat of a talent of picking out diamonds from the rough, as people put it.” The words are said with a certain gaze trained at Stiles that he doesn’t necessarily understand. Though the waiter is here with their food so there isn’t much time to analyze it much either.
-
“Fuck,” Stiles whispers under his breath as a hickey is sucked into the juncture of his neck. “You feel good-” he says into Logan’s ears.
“I can be better if you behave,” Logan promises as he begins to unbutton his own shirt.
-
“I can get that for you,” his boyfriend offered, looking at the tee Stiles was analyzing the fit of in the thrift store.
“Hmm?” Stiles began distracted by the same article in another colour. “Oh no, it’s fine. It’s only a couple of bucks anyways.”
“Don’t you think you should invest in some real clothes though?” Logan casually suggested, his fingers running over the line of hangers on his left. “I could take you to a proper store, get you fitted. There is a lot more potential there-” he looked at Stiles from head to toe, making him blush.
“Uhm—yeah, maybe, sometime.” he stuttered through agreement.
-
“Son,” John began with a stark crease on his forehead, one that never really forecasted a jolly conversation.
“Logan’s nice dad, you don’t have to worry, I promise.” he answered without prompt.
“I’m sure he is,” John agreed though the skepticism in his voice remained as leaned on the frame of Stiles’ bedroom door. “It was just odd how he kept bringing up his business into the conversation.”
“He’s passionate about his work,” Stiles shrugged putting away the laundry sitting on his bed into the bin –which was not really accommodating the overload but whatever.
“Is it going well? His business?” the older man inquired.
“Yeah, I think so.” Stiles frowned slightly. “I’ve never asked much about it but he seems to be busy with it and he definitely does not have issues spending his money so...yeah.”
John hums in thought. “I’m assuming you already did a background check on him.”
“Obviously, he came out clean.”
“Okay, okay,” John sighed. Maybe he really was thinking too much about it. “As long as he’s treating you well.”
“He is.” Stiles assured.
-
“Dude! What the hell was that!?” Stiles confronted Logan the second the car doors slammed closed.
“You seriously blaming me Stiles?” Logan asked offended. “What? You think I’m going to let any random weirdo run his hands over you and do nothing?”
“One, he wasn’t some weirdo, I knew him from work. And second, we were dancing. It was a club, it wasn’t that big of a deal!”
“Stil-”
“You punched him in the stomach!” Stiles shouted. “That is unacc-mmph-” his words broke mid-way as he was being kissed, brought in tight by Logan’s hand extended form the drivers’ seat.
“No one gets to touch you like that, you get me. You’re mine to touch.” is whispered against his lips and the tone makes heat pool low in his gut.
“Uh-” he struggles before gaining some semblance of control back. “Physical fights are unacceptable though. Deal?”
“Mmhm,” Logan briefly agrees before going back to kissing Stiles stupid.
-
“How do I look?” he spun in a little circle to show off his semi-casual suit. It had been a few good years since he wore one but this was surely a day that warranted the extra effort; Scott was finally opening his own animal clinic!
“It’s decent.” Logan answered with a dull tone. Which was odd considering Stiles knew for sure he looked absolutely edible at the moment. It was approved by Lydia -if only through video call, but her expertize were never to be questioned either way.
“Something off about the outfit?” he asked, looking down to see if he had creased some part of the linen.
“You just look a little bulky with all the layers, puts on a few pounds on you for no reason,”
“Oh,” Stiles let out, looking down at the outfit in a new light now. He was wearing at least three layers on the top and it was possible Lydia couldn’t probably see all that through the crappy camera of his old phone camera. “I could wear something different?”
“How about that shirt I got you last month?”
“The yellow one? Don’t you think that will be a little out of code for an office inauguration?”
“But you look so stunning in it honey,” Logan said warmly and Stiles was instantly biased to his boyfriend’s decision at those eyes.
“You’re right, yeah, yeah. I’ll go change.”
“Good boy,” Logan teased and Stiles chucked on his way to their shared bedroom at Rosewood 3471, the Miller Mansion as the address plate indicated.
-
“I remember I very, very specifically told you to not bring Jamie to the barbeque. He’s a damn rascist and makes everyone uncomfortable.” Stiles spoke in irritation. He understood that Logan was close friends with the guy but this was an event at Stiles’ residence, he should have a say in who attends it and who doesn’t.
“No, you didn’t.” Logan spoke with innocent confusion visible in his features.
“What?” Stiles asked in confusion as well. “What are you talking about? I told you when I called you from the grocery store last week when we were talking about the invitation list.”
“Stile,” Logan spoke slightly dismissive. “You barely mentioned the thing, you totally didn’t insinuate that Jamie shouldn’t be attenting family functions.”
“I-” Stiles hesitated. Maybe he had forgotten to mention is so many words his desires, and he definitely did have a tendency to have full blown conversations in his head and completely forget about the fact that, well, they were in his head. It was also very much possible the Stiles words and tone did not travel through with the same intensity over the phone as it should’ve. “I guess, it could be. You’re right.” He sighed.
“It’s alright babe, I don’t hold it against you.” Logan came closer to rub Stiles shoulder in comfort.
“Thanks.” He smiled back. “But make a note of the fact now please, no Jamie wherever it is possible.”
“Noted.” Logan nodded briefly and went back to his laptop.
-
"Well, it was either this or me waiting till sixty for him to propose," Logan laughed along with the crowd, though Stiles was too lost looking at the band on his ring finger to really comprehend what was being discussed. They were standing at a celebratory function, surrounded by a crowd of close (and some not so close in Logan's case) friends celebrating them. Celebrating Logan proposing out of the very literal and blinding blue to Stiles on a hot summer day at the beach of all places, not even three days ago.
It was almost suspicious if you asked Stiles though he understood, and was reminded of the fact pretty recently by his fiance, that he was unnecessarily skeptical of most matters on most days. Besides, it simply meant Logan was really good at keeping things away from Stiles when needed. Stiles thinks it is a good thing?
Completely ignoring that they had only barely discussed a life entailing marriage before this, or that Stiles didn't really like beaches in the first place, or a million other things. But the factual part of the situation remained, Stiles was so, so lucky to be getting married to a man that he loved and who obviously loved him back just as much. He was grateful.
-
“I do.” Logan smiled through the words.
“I now pronounce you a married couple.” The pastor announced and several joyous cheers disrupted the quiet of the church.
Stiles couldn’t be happier. After all that his high-school years put him through, the supernatural shit-wreck that was his life then, Stiles couldn’t believe he stood here today after only a few years that in reality felt like decades, marrying the man of his dreams. No, Logan wasn’t perfect but that was okay, neither was Stiles. They both had their shortcomings but they were both ready to face them, to support each other to become better versions of themselves as they spent their coming times together.
His father cried; asked him at least three times before and twice during the ceremony if he was sure of this and Stiles said ‘yes’ each time. Logan made him happy in ways he had never really imagined being able to after everything in his life, he was stability to Stiles.
Stiles couldn’t be happier.
-
Stiles could be happier. He’d be happier if he had lost those 10 pounds he was planning to before the wedding because the least he could do was look half as good as his fiance at their wedding day. Also, he wishes they had bought that chocolate cake instead of the pineapple but Logan was right, pineapple was more universally appreciated and they did have like 70 people at the wedding, mostly from Logan’s side so he obviously knew better.
He’d also be happier if Scott stopped being disapproving of Logan for one second and actually enjoyed this milestone in his best-friend’s life. He’d be happier if Lydia’s smile would reach a little higher to meet her eyes or maybe if she’d speak up about whatever it was she was not telling Stiles since the second she landed into town for his wedding.
He’d be happier too if he saw another familiar face in the crowd, though....he guesses it is better that it is missing; he’s not really sure if he’d even be here, standing next to Logan on the alter, if he still had the gloomy presence of one blue-eyed alpha running attached to his shadow, existing and grounding at all times.
He shakes his head, physically willing the thoughts to go away, wanting the memories that were flashing too quickly in his mind to come to a halt.
“Husband!” Logan’s voice brings him to, aiding his earlier endeavour. He grins wide as he looks, Logan coming his way. “Dance with me!”
“What? No! Logan I said no to dancing, we agreed!”
“No, I just lied,” Logan informs devilishly. They both knew Stiles was a disaster on the dance floor, all limbs and throwing of the said limbs in directions that called for potential injuries. “Come on, I’m asking all nicely.” he insisted.
“Logan, really, no—I-can’t,”
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!” He grabbed onto Stiles’ wrist to drag him onto the floor.
In retrospect, Stiles didn’t really hate dancing at his wedding that much except the sweat patch on his shirt and his patchy complexion due to the makeup being ruined by the said sweat. Nor did he really mind the cake that was smashed in his face during the reception though it would’ve been nice to have his wedding suit be stain-less eventually to keep as a memory. It was fine, they had photographs anyways right? Right.