'No Laughing Matter' (Beckett Version)

 [Alternate Text: A header image of a Wonder woman ring. It has a relatively understated design, appearing to be made of aged bronze with her double 'W' symbol in its center. It's resting on what appears to be a stone surface. The title 'No Laughing Matter' is in a unique font that's whimsical with squiggles and little lines above each letter. It has a golden-orange glow effect around it.]

Clack… clack… clack…

You minimally lower the outdated, lifestyle magazine from in front of your face to stare down Reese. He doesn't immediately return your attention, but when he does, his smirk is paired with an additional toothy smile. It has way too many teeth showing because that's meant for dental demonstrations. "Put it down, Verner."

"You have the only good magazine," he points out, waving a hand at the paltry offerings in the waiting area. "I already read 'When You Give a Mouse a Cookie' in school, not that it stopped me from revisiting it today… But I am bored." A particularly sharp clack comes from the resin teeth to punctuate his statement. "You are stressed despite not being the one on the operating table. Also, extra prickly and gruff."

"It isn't that kind of surgery," you retort. "He's nervous, so I'm nervous in sympathy."

Reese appears unconvinced by your reasoning, though he does set aside the jaws to settle in the chair beside you. The fact he's here as well shows just how anxious Beckett is. Of course, he would want you by his side inside and out of Fernweh; however, you're both firmly still in the town's boundaries. The way the townsfolk have treated him could influence the dentist who needs to perform a minor operation that requires at least one person accompanying the patient. The Verner heir being present ensures the Hippocratic oath. Beckett's nerves about the level of care prompted you to invite your friend.

The dentist seems perfectly professional, yet Reese happily went back to talk with him.

It gave you and Beckett more time together until he was called, except that was hours ago. It isn't a packed practice. Routine cleanings might take time away from the hygienists, but not the actual dentist. You're getting antsy.

"At this rate, they could never use you for any of their smiley brochures, [Surname]."

Your concerned frown deepens after Reese's attempt at levity for your sake. He mirrors it to a lesser degree before elegantly standing up to approach the front desk. He's inquiring about a status update on Beckett. His voice hardly carries over the folk music playing in the area, which only prompts you to lean forward some.

Within a few minutes, Reese returns with two lollipops in hand that you're tempted to smack because something's up. He dragged his feet on the return walk; it wasn't his usual stride. You're starting to know him better as friends.

"It seems counterintuitive to me as well," he starts. "But they had blackberry, and I got you the—"

"What'd you learn?"

"—orange one," Reese breezily finishes. "I will go with the good news first then the bad. Good: it went perfectly. He is coming to. Bad: your dearest was so anxious, they used laughing gas hence the longer wait time for its effects."

"It wasn't his wisdom teeth just a little—"

"Yes, I know," Reese gently interrupts. "We will be invited back shortly to see him. He is fine."

"I should've gone back there." He fiddles with the plastic wrapper, still giving you his total attention while letting you speak. The lollipop is a rich mauve color that shines. "I know the rooms are tiny, but still… I could've helped."

"You also could have been a distraction, a very well-meaning one," he clarifies. "It is done, and you will be there now for his recovery period, which is mostly just ice cream for a day."

"That's not what the nurse said."

"It's the rough translation of soft foods for a day and swishing with that stuff. I did listen."

Reese smirks around his lollipop when you do finally crack a smile at his teasing and care; however, you won't be relieved until you're with–

"Beckett Warrick?" A lady in scrubs pops her head out from a door, scanning the room. "Oh, excuse me, his spouse and Mister Verner."

His what?

Reese seems less floored than you are by this woman's kind-hearted assumption, setting his treat aside to stifle a laugh as the two of you follow after the nurse. She's quick-footed, only sparing you a quick glance, whereas Reese's is a couple seconds longer. The scent of mint mingles with that of a sterile cleanliness; there are multiple rooms for cleanings. Surgery must take place in the back rooms. You follow along.

"Please remember he might experience mild confusion and disorientation. He's such a champ—never had a patient squeeze my hand that hard. Reminded me of my sister's labor, but Beckett did very well," she shares. "Here."

You pause by the door at the thought of Beckett squeezing someone else's hand, which allows Reese to open it first. He knows better than to go inside before you. You're the first one in to see Beckett leaning back on the reclined chair, just staring up at the boring ceiling tiles until he hears his newfound company. Within a split second, he's beaming at you. "Bee," you exhale his nickname. "How are you feeling?"

Beckett flashes a double thumbs up, becoming mildly distracted by the left one before his eyes are back on you again. "Floaty, not gonna lie," he admits. "I missed you so much." He gestures to a nearby chair that's been pulled into place by his. "Yours—I made her do it."

There's a conspiratorial edge to Beckett's comment about the nurse as he continues to take you in. The warmth to his expression is yours alone, cutting through the after effects from the laughing gas. You take his hand in yours before—

"Where's your wedding band? Did you lose it?"

His pure happiness at your arrival becomes cratered with worry before you feel exactly what that nurse was talking about in Beckett's grip strength. It doesn't hurt; he would never, but it's a solid hold. His eyebrows knit together in honest befuddlement as he flips your palm over as if the ring is hiding somewhere. That isn't how a band of metal even works. "I—"

"And who is he?"

Reese's budding amusement abruptly fizzles out after that's posed by Beckett in what seems to be confused hostility. "Oh, rest assured I—"

"He's blond," Beckett interjects, stating it as a hard fact or final conclusion. He tugs a section of his light brown hair between his fingers in obvious scrutiny. He's still holding onto your hand. "They have more fun—a movie said so."

"It was one movie. There are plenty of blond jokes as well. You are absolutely gorgeous."

"I made my vows to only one"—Beckett prods you in a gentle poke—"person, sorry. We're full up."

Reese tries and fails to mask a good humored smile at your boyfriend's behavior—the happiness, hostility, insecurity, and then loyalty to you is all blending together. He uses his lollipop to gesture between you. "A shame."

"Verner, don't," you warn him. "Let's not confuse him more. Beckett, we aren't married." His face falls in an instant, crushingly disappointed, and it causes your heart to twist even if this is a dumb drug's fault. How much was the dosage to calm his anxiety? "Uh, yet. My ring's at the cleaner's—getting cleaned. Reese is in my wedding party, okay? My friend; you're more."

Reese appears unimpressed by your rushed lie, but he endorses it with a nod. "Yes, we need to finalize the ice cream pairings for your cake."

Through his hazy confusion, your boyfriend carefully weighs each of your words before he pulls you closer for a hug that you relax into.

"Okay," Beckett happily agrees. "As long as I'm marrying the most beautiful person in the world, the blond can be there too, I guess."

You barely hear Reese's hushed scoff in the background while so focused on Beckett now.

. . .

. .

.

"…Did I hurt his feelings?"

Beckett's question is mumbled against your neck as he cuddles you on the couch. It helps to wake you up after a binge marathon of his favorite movies. "Who? Reese? Absolutely not," you reassure him. "We both know you were still under the gas's effects. Please don't worry."

He says nothing for a while, pulling you closer.

"His name just wasn't coming to mind." He shuffles so his left hand is in easy view. "I don't see how I thought a Wonder Woman novelty ring was a wedding one either… I just—it was so easy to remember you, [Nickname]. I thought of you before anything else— everything else, really." Beckett rests his hand in its place on your waist. "I did miss you though."

"I never left."

"Still missed you," he murmurs, placing a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling back to regard you more earnestly. "But don't take anything I said as pressure. We haven't talked about that stuff yet, and I don't want one dentist visit to make things weird… I do want to be in your life for as long as you'll let me, but the marriage thing isn't—I didn't really have a filter."

"Yeah, I think 'the blond' would agree." Beckett half-smiles at your humor that was more for him than you. "I know what you mean, but I didn't mind being called your spouse either…"

Beckett's eyes widen slightly at your honesty, an adorable flicker of surprise mingling with his raw hope. He'll start to blush soon enough, and you'll be right here to admire him as 'the most beautiful person in the world' too. You lean in to share an affectionate kiss with him that's also a reassurance for your future plans.

You had already thought about spending the rest of your life with Beckett Warrick.