Barbara Llyod had dealt with some extremely strange couples in her years as a wedding planner. There have been brides that were replicas of Cruella De Ville herself, and grooms that were better left out of the picture entirely. Nearly every couple left her questioning what they saw in each other, or more importantly, what she was still doing in this line of work.

But never, in all her years, had she encountered a couple quite like this one.

"Ooo! Ooo! We could have books on the tables!" The brunette exclaimed excitedly.

Her fiancé mumbled, "We might as well have a statue of Björk on the cake."

"We could make Dave wear a Clash t-shirt," she said thoughtfully, tapping her pen against the notebook she brought. She seemed to be forgetting that they had hired an actual planner to do the planning.

"He wouldn't exactly object," he paused, then looked up from his book, "Hey! Why can't I wear a t-shirt?"

"Because I'd rather marry you than Dave. Whoever wears a t-shirt is not getting married."

He groaned in response, and she giggled, pecking him on the cheek. "It'll be fine. Wearing a suit for one day won't kill you."

"That's what you think."

"So, what do you want on the cake?" Barbara asked.

Suddenly, the woman leaped up from the table, causing her fiancé to look up at her questioningly. "Somewhere Only We Know!"

"What?" The other two chorused.

"By Keane!"

They still stared at her.

"Jess, the bridge."

His eyes lit up. "Oh! Fine, you win. It's your turn to think of a place." He looked back down at his book.

She sat back down and glanced over at Barbara. "Oh, sorry." She laughed. "We were playing a game earlier in the car about...nevermind." She shook her head. "What were you saying?"

"I need to know what you want on the cake."

"Frosting!"

"Better make it a truckload of frosting, knowing Rory," Jess muttered, never taking his eyes off the page.

"What flavor frosting?"

"Chocolate!"

"Vanilla."

The couple looked at each other, and Rory narrowed her eyes. "Chocolate," she repeated. He rolled his eyes, and she grinned.

"Yay!" She kissed him chastely, and nodded at the wedding planner. "Chocolate."

"Chocolate it is. What flavor for the cake?"

"Vanilla."

"Chocolate." He looked up from his book at her in shock. "You're unbelievable. You know that?"

"You're the one picking the different flavors! It's your fault!"

"We're saying them at the same time! How can it be my fault?"

"Because I'm always right."

"I swear, sometimes I don't know why I'm marrying you."

"Because I prettttyyyy?" She pouted, and he smirked.

"More than that." He looked up at Barbara. "Isn't there a marble option or something?"

"Yes!" Barbara exclaimed, making a note on her paper. "Now-"

"What's wrong now?" Jess asked, studying the brunette carefully.

"Now I feel bad. You wanted vanilla icing."

"And you wanted chocolate cake."

"But I get half chocolate! And you don't get any vanilla icing." She appeared to be deep in thought, and then she grinned. "Strawberry."

He nodded. "Strawberry."

Rory smiled at Barbara. "Strawberry," she repeated.

"What do you want on top of the--"

"Oh no." Rory said suddenly, looking around anxiously. He lifted an eyebrow, and she grabbed his wrist. "What time is it?"

"You're the one holding the wrist that has my watch on it."

"Oh no!" She cried again, standing up and grabbing her coat from the back of the chair.

Barbara looked around the room. "What's wrong?"

"It's the sixteenth! The sixteenth, Jess!"

"Oh God," he groaned. His head fell forward and hit the table.

"I'm sorry, but we have to go. Can we continue this tomorrow?" She asked, pulling at her fiancé’s hand in a futile effort to make him get up. "Come on, Jess!" She said through clenched teeth.

"There's no way in HELL I'm going over there."

"Well, you have to. Up! Up, Dumbo, up!" He stood and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Don't call me Dumbo."

"It's a compliment! Think of all the little kids who love that flying elephant!"

"Flattery won't get me to your grandmother's house." He craned his neck to see the wedding planner and yelled, "Just put those little statues of the bride and groom on the cake, only make the groom decapitated and have another statue labeled ‘Satan/Grandmother’ holding a chain saw."

Barbara stared at them. "Is...he kidding?" She asked, uncertainly.

Rory groaned. "Yes. Just...we'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Sure..." Barbara said, gathering up her papers and going to get herself a strong drink.