Promise With a Kiss

Summary: This is not how she imagined her wedding. Joker/Wendy, post-ROD the TV.

This is not how she imagined her wedding.

As a child, she had misty images of cathedrals and princess-gowns and armfuls of perfect red roses, because Mummy said that every girl does, and she’s never been one to question tradition.

The little white lace sundress borrowed from a neighbour is a far cry from the yards and yards of silk and satin and tulle, and there’s not a seed pearl in sight. The flowers that the farmer’s wife twisted into her hair aren’t exactly the floor-length veil Mummy told her she would wear someday either.

The little bundle of apple blossoms that the farmer’s daughter across the way cut and tied prettily with a length of ribbon – blue, to match your eyes – is hardly the overflowing bouquet of roses that was supposed to make her arms ache and fill the air with the perfume of love.

They – well, she, because she’s the bride, and even Mr. Joker knows that the bride gets the last word on her wedding day – opted for the nearby orchard over the church in town, and the dense leafy canopy of the of apple and plum branches overhead is beautiful. But it’s still nothing like the gloomy, splendid cathedral of her daydreams, brought to life and celebration with a king’s ransom worth of flowers.

When she thinks about it, it’s only fair that it’s nothing like she imagined, because she’s willing to bet that this isn’t where he thought he’d end up either – buried in the countryside, keeping carefully out of sight, marrying his assistant, of all things.

But when he lifts her chin and leans in to promise with a kiss, she can read in his eyes and his smile and his touch that amid all the dashed expectations in his life, this is the part that he wouldn't change if he could.

End Notes: Because I needed to get the sap-fluff out of my system before I tackle the babyfic I've got planned for these two.