Joey looked up at the open door, her mouth curving into a smile. "You did, did you? And what great powers of deductive reasoning led you to that conclusion?"

"Well," he shrugged, tugging at his bow tie. "It's about twenty minutes before the wedding. And brides have this thing about hiding out before said events."

"They do, do they? And how many brides have you actually had the pleasure of knowing?"

"Well, I knew Mrs. Leery when she got married the second time."

"Right. And you were very close to that whole wedding, as I recall." She turned back to the mirror, surveying her makeup. "Anyone else?"

"I was in all my sisters's weddings."

"Right. The last one got married when you were, what? Ten?"

"The wedding that the Icehouse catered?"

"Again, if memory serves correctly, you were busy with your girlfriend at the time destroying the cake."

"Salvaging the cake."

"That your girlfriend destroyed."

He came up behind her, his hands warm through the thin silk of her dress as he grasped her waist lightly. "Regardless, I wasn't wrong, was I?"

"No. I am here. Hiding out, as you so eloquently put it." Her eyes met his in the mirror as he leaned over her shoulder. His breath stirred the hairsprayed curls that framed her face, feathered over her cheek. "That still doesn't explain your presence."

"No?" He nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it doesn't, does it?"

"No."

He let his hands slide higher, watching them move in the mirror as he reached the bottom swell of her breasts, his thumbs caressing the whispering fabric of her dress. "You look beautiful."

"Every bride does."

"I suppose," he agreed, bending his head slightly to press a soft, quick kiss on her neck, just above her collarbone. "Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now?"

"Can I hazard a guess that it has something to do with me getting married in white?" She chuckled softly, the sound echoing his. Turning, careful not to slip from his touch, Joey looked up at him, her dark hair pooling around her shoulders. "And it would probably offend every regular church going person sitting about fifty yards from us?"

He turned her slightly and started walking, carefully guiding her as he edged her toward the wall. She moved slowly, her feet sliding along the carpet to keep from getting tangled in her train. She felt the wall against her skin, the low cut of the back of the dress hidden by the modest exposure of cleavage in the front. His voice was a hungry growl. "It might."

Joey ran her fingers over the lapel of his tuxedo, touching the unfurling rosebud of his boutonniere. Pacey watched her hand moving, his own snaking between them and unfastening his fly, sliding his zipper down in the heavy silence of the room. "Are you going to fuck me, Pacey?"

He closed his eyes at her rough, husky voice, a tremor running through him. "The thought had crossed my mind." He released her waist and used both hands to shove his pants down to mid-thigh. "You have a problem with that?"

Joey went up on tiptoe, glancing over his shoulder to the full-length mirror on the opposite wall of the room, smiling at the view of his ass, peeking out from underneath his jacket. "It could be complicated."

He bent over, ignoring her appreciative whistle, grabbed the base of her dress and lifted it to her waist. Reaching beneath the piles of silk, he pressed his hand to the downy hair at the apex of her thighs. His voice dropped thickly. "You're not wearing anything, Jo?"

"Maybe I knew you'd show up."

"Maybe you're a wanton hussy." He laughed as she looked at him, the sound low and sexy as his fingers moved forward, parting damp flesh to find the hard nub of her clit. "Okay. Maybe you knew I'd show up. Am I that predictable?"

She shook her head as her free hand grasped his arm, her nails biting into his jacket. "Wish…" She moaned softly as he circled her clit with his finger then covered it, teasing it with a sudden hard pressure. "Wishful thinking, maybe."

"No wishes needed, Jo." He removed his hand and brought it to his lips, sucking the warm taste of her from his fingertips. She watched him, her mouth parted, waiting as he removed them from his mouth, sliding them over her lips. "Since I'm here."

"You're still not fucking me," she managed to whisper.

"I'm not, am I?" He shook his head and reached down, the dress no longer held up by the close press of their bodies but by his hands as he buried them beneath it, grabbing her waist and lifting her, using the wall to hold her as he moved forward. "An oversight I think I should rectify. Don't you?"

She nodded, her eyes closing as he lowered her, the hard press of his cock parting wet flesh and sliding easily inside her. Silk billowed around him as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his bare ass as he wrapped one arm around her, the other finding purchase on the wall to support them both.

"Christ, Potter. You're so wet."

She shook her head, biting her lip as he began moving, thrusting, the slow steady strokes pushing deeply inside her. "Not, not for long."

"Wet?" He asked as his hips rolled forward, pushing into her, the room alive with the whispers and rustles of flesh against flesh against fabric and cloth.

She shook her head again, releasing her lip as she forced herself to breathe. "Potter."

Pacey groaned deeply, his fingers digging into her flesh as he stepped closer to the wall, her body unable to move, captive in the small space between them. "So hot," he breathed, his whispers splaying over her skin as he brought his hand from the wall to the hard tip of her nipple, peaked behind the slippery material of her dress. He rubbed it gently, breathing in Joey's moan of pleasure as he released it, finding her hip again, holding her as he slowly began relinquishing control, his thrusts speeding up, lengthening, his muscles tightening. "Wet and hot and…"

"Hard," she nodded, her hands in his hair, on his face. She dug her nails into his scalp, raking through the thick strands of his hair roughly as her legs tightened impossibly around him. "Hard." Both trapped by flesh and fabric, they continued moving, no sound penetrating the rough gasps of air that clung to them. "Harder."

Pacey groaned, the sound buried in her dress, his rose crushed against her body as he fought the threatening surge of heat pulsing along his cock. Joey mewled with fevered pleasure, forcing his mouth up to hers, her nails drawing blood along the back of his neck as she scraped them over his skin, tightening her hold on him as her body stopped then shuddered, collapsing around him.

Pacey groaned again, jerking into her, release binding them more tightly together. The sharp sting of air and sweat on the broken flesh of his neck hovering on the edges of his perception as he thrust into the waning rush of Joey's orgasm.

He eased her to the floor slowly, skin and flesh separating reluctantly as he pulled away. Her hands moved automatically to her dress, smoothing it, her eyes somewhere else as heat slowly drained from her face, leaving her flushed and pale all at once. Pacey watched her with dark eyes, pain shooting through them as sensation returned and the sting of his neck pushed past arousal for dominance. "I should get out there."

"You should," she nodded. "You've got kind of a pivotal role in all this."

He laughed and adjusted his boxers and pants, fitting his vest back over his waistline. The gray silk was crumpled and wrinkled, matching the formerly smooth lines of her dress. "No more so than yours."

"Well, no one's more important than the bride." She grinned then headed back toward the mirror. "It's my day, don't you know."

He nodded, smiling, his eyes watching her as she looked at him in the silvered glass. "You look gorgeous, Potter."

"You don't look so bad yourself." She turned her attention back to her own reflection. "You better get out there before you're missed."

Music filtered toward them and he raised his eyebrow. "Or before I'm found?"

"It's bad luck for you to be found with the bride before the wedding."

"So I've heard." He grabbed her veil off the back of the chair it was spread over and set it carefully on her head. "I'll see you in a few."

Joey took a deep breath as she started down the aisle, the whole church shimmering through the hazy glow of her veil. She felt more than saw the eyes on her, the smiles of her family and friends. She kept her gaze locked in front of her. The aisle, the open section just before the altar. Three steps up and stop. Don't lock your knees, remember to breathe.

She took another breath, another step. Slow and steady, rehearsed time and again in her head and last night, over and over until everyone was satisfied. She reached the first row and stopped, glanced to her left at Bessie and Bodie, Alexander and Emily. She smiled at them, sniffling slightly at the tears shining in Bessie's eyes.

Facing forward again, she stopped at the bottom step and looked up. Pacey and Dawson. Dawson and Pacey. Her whole lifetime, give or take a few months of insanity in college, standing side by side. Animosity still hovered between them, always would, but there was no one else that could stand beside him right now, here, today.

She watched Pacey smile, the slow curve lighting his eyes, his face. Knowing in the electric blue brought a smile to her face as she stopped and turned at last. She could hear Jen's soft snicker, knew the wrinkles in her dress hadn't gone unnoticed, but she still smiled.

Smiled at the boy she loved beside her and the man she loved just behind him. Wondered how long the two-week honeymoon would actually seem and wondered, even more urgently, if there'd be a chance for her to fuck Pacey again somewhere between the wedding night, opening gifts and hurrying for the plane to the Bahamas.

Glancing past Dawson once again, she noticed Pacey's smile widening and forced herself not to grin in return. The answer, apparently identical to hers as the pastor asked her if she took Dawson to be her lawful wedded husband, was yes.

3/20/00