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Their problems didn't start at their wedding, but that was when things really went off the fucking rails.
They got married fast, Jake can admit that. Maybe too fast. He and Adam had only been together for eight months when Adam was called to Houston for another training session.
“Come with me,” Adam said, as they lay naked and fucked-out in Jake's bed.
“I have work.” Not that it was going particularly well or anything.
“You could take a sabbatical. Houston's great, you'd love it. Nothing but heat and sunshine.” Outside, typical English autumn rain plinked against the windowpane.
“I don't like going abroad.” That wasn't strictly true. Jake had been to the usual places: France and Spain and Switzerland, once. But Houston was Adam's place, full of people like Adam, who knew Adam and who would have no interest in knowing a guy like Jake.
“OK.” Adam said. He was like that, easygoing, but Jake could hear hurt in his voice when he went on, “I guess we'll just leave things there, then. Maybe we can meet up when I get back.”
The thought of that twisted Jake's guts like a bad curry. Jake had met Adam in a pub, watching a Manchester City match. It was meant to be a one-night stand. Eight months on, he had no idea why Adam was still here—Jake was a decent lay, he could say that for himself, and he was funny enough to make Adam laugh regularly—but he knew that if he let him go now, there was no way Jake would be lucky enough to catch him again. “We could get married.” The words were out of Jake's mouth before he could think about them. It was a stupid idea. Jake had had a lot of those in his life, but Adam's face lit up like fucking Christmas, and Jake found he couldn't regret this one.
“Yes, please.” Adam sounded over-the-moon happy. Too happy, for someone like him shackling themselves to someone like Jake. Don't do this to him, he thought. Don't let him ruin his own life. But Jake always was selfish.
If it had been up to him, Jake would have planned a simple wedding. Registry office followed by a piss up with a few of his mates. Adam wanted more than that. Adam deserved more than that.
Adam deserved more than Jake, too. That was painfully obvious every time Adam introduced him to another wedding guest he'd never met before. Adam's relatives, Adam's colleagues—some had even come from Russia and America at short notice, that was how popular Adam was—Adam's old Air Force mates and his school friends and his fucking neighbours. They were all polite. They all congratulated Jake, they all shook his hand, but Jake could see the disappointment, the pity, on their faces. They'd expected Adam's new husband to be like him. Smart. Brave. Amazing. Handsome as fuck. Not some pathetic nobody, a copper who couldn't even do his job.
This disappointment wasn't new. Jake saw it all the time. Whenever they went out, strangers stared at them, wondering what Adam was doing with him. This was the first time it had happened over and over, with so many people Adam knew. Who knew Adam.
So Jake got angry, and then he got pissed. Not the little bit pissed everyone gets at their weddings, but blackout drunk. The next morning, Adam told him he'd yelled at a waiter and had a loud, public argument with his own father, who told him to slow down a bit. He'd then stormed out early, forcing Adam to trail after him, only for Jake to pass out on the floor the moment they arrived home.
Adam had carried him to bed, because of course he fucking had.
“You should have stayed there,” Jake told him, pressing his face into his pillow and hoping to suffocate himself. It would be less humiliating than living. “Enjoyed yourself.”
“At my wedding, by myself? That's a bit pathetic.”
Pathetic. That was a good word to describe Jake. It described Adam, too, though. Instead of walking out, calling the whole thing off right then and there like he should have, he climbed into bed beside Jake and pulled him close. “I love you.” Adam kissed Jake's forehead, even though Jake certainly smelled worse than the men's room of a pub at closing time. “I love you,” he repeated, holding him tighter when Jake tried to escape.
Yeah, Jake thought bitterly. Head pounding, he pushed Adam away roughly and got out of bed. Sure you do.
***
A warm sea breeze floated in through the open window, ruffling the gauzy white curtains and bringing in the salty scent of the ocean into their room. Beside him, Adam lay on his stomach on top of the bed covers, his lovely, luscious arse just begging for Jake to squeeze it, or maybe take a bite.
As Jake contemplated doing just that, Adam cracked one eye open. “Hmm,” he murmured, and shifted on the bed.
Jake couldn't remember the name of the island they were on now. It was paradise, Jake knew that much. Better yet, it was isolated enough nobody seemed to recognize the internationally famous dead man calling himself Adam Willis, travelling on a passport created by the mysterious Doctor.
Gabriela had recommended the place, right after she told them she'd met a woman in the market and was heading to Zimbabwe with her that night. Thank God for that, had been Jake's reaction. Gabriela was a sound girl. She had a standing invitation to stay with them whenever she was in England, but Jake couldn't say he was heartbroken to wave her good-bye.
“All right?” Adam asked.
He rolled over, and Jake traded his view of that wonderful arse for Adam's even better cock. His mouth actually watered looking at it, just like those dogs in that experiment. Instead of immediately sliding down the bed, like he wanted to, Jake heard himself say, “I'm sorry.”
Adam frowned. “For what?” It was a long list. Jake didn't know where to start. Adam reached out for him, arranging them until Jake's head rested on his muscular chest. “You saved the world, sweetheart. You can get a lot of mileage out of that one.” A strong hand ran down Jake's back. “Even if you hadn't done that, I love you. I always did. And if you dare ask me why, I'm kicking you out of this bed right now.” Jake didn't ask why. He didn't say anything.
Adam sighed. Jake felt it rather than heard it, then felt Adam shifting away, moving back so he could look Jake in the eye. “I texted you for help, Jake. Not my parents. Not my friends. Not anybody with ESA or NASA or Roscosmos. You.”
“I know.”
“Because I knew you would come. Even though I was fucking furious at you, I knew you wouldn't let me down. You wouldn't think twice about it.”
“I didn't.” Jake hadn't even thought once. He'd been at the airport, demanding a flight to Hong Kong, as soon as was physically possible.
Jake was fond of saying he “didn't do emotions.” What he really meant, of course, was that he always had too bloody many of them. Now, even though he should be nothing but happy on his belated honeymoon with Adam, a wave of sadness flooded over him. “Adam.” His voice cracked. “When I saw on the telly that you were dead, I...”
“I'm going to have words with ESA about letting you find out that way.” Adam's voice was hard.
“I'm sorry,” Jake repeated, even as Adam pressed kisses to his face, then his bare shoulders. “I'm sorry I ruined our wedding.” Of all the ways in which he'd hurt Adam, that was one he regretted most. Adam opened his mouth, no doubt to tell him it didn't matter. Jake spoke before he had the chance to. “I want to have another one. Right away.”
Adam blinked in surprise, then grinned, as wide and happy as the first time Jake proposed. “I'll never say no to that, love.”
Soon, Jake and Adam were going to have to return to real life. The Doctor said she'd fixed it so ESA and the others would believe Adam's story of washing up on a beach and wandering around in a daze for weeks until he remembered who he was. Even so, it seemed unlikely Adam would ever go to the ISS again.
“I don't care,” Adam said, breezily. “I've had enough of space to last a lifetime.”
Jake was going to do his bit, as well. When they were back home, he was going to meet with his old DCI and ask about steps he could take to get his job back. Quitting drinking and seeing a therapist were likely going to be high on the list, but Jake could do that, for Adam. For both of them.
Those were issues for another day. Now, standing on the beach in a white shirt and shorts he was sure made him look like he belonged on the court at Wimbledon, the only thing Jake was thinking about was Adam.
He looked handsome as always, also in white with a big orange flower on the lapel of his short-sleeved shirt. He'd looked good at their first wedding, too. The difference was that this time, when Jake said, “You're gorgeous,” and Adam replied, “So are you,” Jake believed he was telling the truth.
At first, the woman who ran the small hotel had been apologetic, talking about mounds of paperwork and a long wait time before anyone could have a wedding on the island. Once she heard they were already legally married, it was a different story. By evening, there were lanterns on the beach, a dozen people, locals and hotel guests both, had gathered, and another woman, with long dark hair and a wreath of flowers around her neck, stood ready to pronounce them husbands, again.
Throughout the short ceremony, tears pricked the corners of Jake's eyes. When Adam pulled out a pair of rings, he scrubbed the back of his hand over his face, willing them away. “What the fuck is that?”
“I got them when we stopped in Indonesia.” Under the beaming smile of the officiant, Adam took Jake's left hand. “New start,” Adam said, slipping one of the rings onto Jake's finger. It was a simple gold band similar to the other ring Jake had in his bedroom drawer at home, but somehow, this one seemed so much better. “New marriage.”
“New husband,” Jake replied, and slid the other ring onto Adam's hand. “For you.” No more jealousy, no more hating himself and trying to make sure everyone else did, too. It wasn't going to be easy, but if there was one thing Jake had learned about himself lately, it was that he could do a lot of shit he would never have thought possible. A lot.
“No.” Adam shook his head. “The husband I always knew I had. I just hope he knows it now, too.”
Jake's heart pounded hard enough that everyone must have been able to hear it. He kissed Adam, long and deep, the sea wind in their hair and the warm sand beneath their feet. When he was forced to pull away, he murmured, “I do.”
It was a vow to himself as much as to Adam, and he was going to keep it for the rest of his life, no matter fucking what.