105 - Spare Me the Details

“Well, he did it,” Dorothea said with a shake of her head.  Tony was just entering the kitchen barefoot, wearing jeans and a black Harley-Davidson t-shirt.  Cool winter sunshine streamed through the glass panes of the windows and French doors, making him squint a little.  It was Monday morning after his first night on guard duty at the house – sleeping in the guest room – and the kids had just left for school.  He would be heading out the door to work, shortly, himself.

Tony slipped up behind her chair, brushing the hair away and touching the side of her neck in a soft kiss before moving toward the fragrant coffee pot.  Reaching in the cabinet for a cup, he played along.  “I assume ‘he’ is Jon.  What did he do?”

“Asked Petey to marry him,” she said disdainfully. 

“Okay.”  He poured his coffee and joined her at the table.  “He told us yesterday he thought he would.  Why do you have your nose all wrinkled up?  I thought you liked Petey.”

Jon mentioned the possibility of engagement to them when he brought the kids home yesterday.  Dorothea hadn't really said much at the time, looking highly skeptical, as though she didn't believe it would really happen.  Even if she had been inclined to voice a concern, Jon had moved so quickly into the security arrangements that there hadn't been much of an opportunity.

With respect to the security, Tony had been impressed with the way Jon included him in the conversation without evidence of resentment, and acted as though he had every right to be there.  The timing of Jon’s relationship with Petey couldn’t have been any better from Tony’s perspective.  It gave his brother a reason to concentrate on his happiness instead of un-happiness.

“I do like Petey.”  Her index finger made circles around the rim of the coffee mug in front of her.  It was a heavy pink ceramic boasting that she was the ‘World’s Best Mom’.  If he wasn’t mistaken, either Romeo or Jake had picked it out for the previous Mother’s Day.  “But they’re getting married Saturday.  Saturday!  And Jon actually asked me if they could have the ceremony here.”

Maybe that was a bit much, Tony conceded, but he wouldn't be surprised if Jon still thought of the house as his own.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him he was crazy and asked him if she was pregnant.” Her voice was filled with indignation until she muttered, “And then I told him of course he could.  They’re coming by after school to tell the kids.”

He reached for her hand with a knowing smile.  “You are the coolest, most amazing woman.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“No, I mean it,” he insisted, squeezing her fingers in his.  “Not many women would agree to something like that.”

“With the current security issues, I didn’t really see how I could refuse.  It’s not like an open wedding at the Waldorf was an option.”

 “If it makes you feel any better, we can get married in his apartment,” he was kind enough to offer, chuckling.

“We’re getting married?” she inquired with an arched brow.  “Funny how I don’t remember being asked that question.  It must have slipped my mind.”

“If it happens, you’ll remember it,” was his smug promise.  He would make sure of it. 

☠ ☢ ☠

“There’s the lawyer’s office at eleven,” Jon was reading from the calendar on his phone.  “Then we need to be out in Jersey about four to see the kids.  That gives us a couple of hours in between.”  He sighed and gave her an apologetic look.  “You wanna take that time and swing by my parents’?”

That would bring the last of the family members into the loop about the big event. He dreaded the visit to his parents, but it couldn’t be avoided.  Phoning this one in wasn't an option, because he was reasonably sure that they would expect to meet Petey before being smacked in the face with a marriage announcement. They could hardly be blamed.

The phone call to Petey's parents had gone pretty well.  While they were understandably stunned, John and Teresa hadn't stayed that way for long.  The prior knowledge that Jon and Petey were dating - even if they'd only found out yesterday morning - had smoothed the way.  To Petey's relief, it didn't occur to them to ask if she was pregnant.

Poor Teresa had given up on Petey ever getting married, and was more focused on the joyful aspects of a wedding.  Before they'd hung up she was already forming a call list of florists, bakeries and priests with Jon's assurance that he would cover any and all expenses for rush service.  He was confident that, with Teresa at the helm, the wedding would be as perfect with five days planning as it would have been with five months.

Henry had grumbled and growled at Petey, but his 'talk' with Jon in DC a few days ago went a long way toward his acceptance.  Jon's manhood was only threatened once during the course of the conversation.  Her other brothers and her step-sisters would find out through their parents.

For Jon’s part, he had talked to Dottie – and thereby Tony – Matt, Hugh, Tico and David.  Apart from Dottie verbally looking down her nose at him, those had all gone well enough.  

“Well fuck me running,” David drawled bemusedly.  “I figured my real competition was Sambora.  How the hell did you convince Tinkerhell to marry you?  Hell, why do you want Tinkerhell to marry you?   She’s way too cool for your stodgy old ass.”

“Fuck you, Lemma,” Jon chuckled good naturedly, even as the truth of the words hit home.   They all seemed to think he didn’t deserve her.  Well to hell every last one of 'em.  “All you need to know is that she’s mine and we’d like for you to be at the ceremony.”

“Possessive too?”  Jon could practically picture Lemma’s calculating look.  “Damn, man. I never thought I’d see the day a woman meant so much that you’d get possessive.   I knew I should’ve pushed harder at that party.  I tried to be Joe Cool about it and look where I am now.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered.”  Jon’s left hand reached to clasp her thigh and squeeze.  She smiled at him through the reassurances she was making to her brother.  “She was already mine.”

“What?  No way!  You barely acted as though you knew her name.”

“Yeah, well we were still figuring things out.  I didn’t even know who her parents were at the time.”

“Her parents?  Is that significant?”

Jon forgot that David didn’t know the whole story about Petey’s background.  He laughed lightly.  “It’s interesting anyway.”  Their phone conversation extended much longer than originally planned as he brought his old friend up to speed.  The only thing he left out was the pictures.  Richie remained as the only one who knew about those.

“Dayum,” he breathed when the tale had been told.  “It’s like a fucking movie of the week.”  His awe dissipated in short order and Lemma returned to his usual wise cracking self.  “IQ test be damned.  I still say if the woman is marrying you, her MENSA card needs to be revoked.”

“Probably,” Jon readily agreed, squeezing the thigh he still possessively palmed.  “But she doesn't seem to mind."

So, in the end, Richie wouldn’t be there but the rest of the band would.  Jon couldn’t make himself ask one of the other guys to stand up with him though.  If Richie didn’t want to do it, he’d stand alone.

He shook his head lightly, coming back to the present where Petey had she’d agreed to visit his parents.  Jon tugged her into his lap and began sipping at her mouth with loving kisses.  “Whatever happens at Mom and Pop’s, just let it roll off your back.  I’d like to think they’ll be gracious and kind, but the suddenness of it all might make Mom say…things that she normally wouldn’t.” 

Jon could only hope that she would open her arms and heart to the woman he had promised the remainder of his life to.

“Mm.”  She rested her weight against him, more interested in kissing than talking.  And, Jesus, the woman could kiss.  His cock started inflating every time her tongue touched his.  That mouth should be registered as an erotically lethal weapon. “What should I wear?” she murmured when they finally came up for air.

“Nuh-uh.”  Jon rubbed the dampness from her pouty bottom lip with his thumb, frowning.  “No conforming for me or the sake of my parents.  It’s a casual day.  You dress how you wanna dress.”

A slow, satisfied smile turned up one corner of her mouth.  “Sounds like you really mean that.”

“Of course I mean it,” he murmured, pushing his hands under the psycho bunny t-shirt she’d pulled on this morning after their shower.  “I like you best naked and plastered all over me, but since they tend to arrest people for that kinda thing in public, so it’s not the best idea.”

The other corner of her mouth turned up.  “Always thinking.  That's one of the things I love about you.” 

“As much as I wanna do this again,” he mumbled against her neck.  “There’s a lot of work that needs done before we can play.”

Her regretful sigh ruffled his hair. “I know.”

Carefully sliding out from under her, he scooted to the other cushion and created some space between them.  Fewer distractions that way.

“So you wanna talk about the prenup and wills before we get to Leo’s office?”  It might seem cold, but the business end of marriage needed as much attention as the ‘fun’ details.  “Wait,” he amended when her nose wrinkled.  “Let me rephrase.  I know you don’t want to, but don’t you think we should?”

“There’s not much to talk about as far as I’m concerned.”  She swiveled on her butt, lifting her feet from the floor to the lone cushion that separated them.  “You were right.  I have an embarrassingly large trust fund, which I rarely ever touch.  Financially, I don’t need anything more.”

“So are we keeping separate finances?”

“I don’t know if that’s necessary, unless you want it.  Can’t we just do what’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine up until the date of the marriage?  If we get divorced, whatever cash and tangible property that we have now is taken off the top and we split everything else?  All of my future trust dividends will go into a joint account for expenses along with whatever you want to put there.  Is that too simplistic?”

“What happens if we don’t have that much money?”

She shrugged carelessly.  “We split everything in a ratio equivalent to my current cash and tangibles versus yours.”

He’d never actually done the whole prenup thing, and maybe it was simplistic, but it made sense to him.  “And the wills?”

“You do whatever you want, but if I die you’ll get everything I have except for some charitable donations that I’d like to specify.”

That made him uncomfortable, and he encouraged her to think about it more carefully.  "I’d rather you leave it to someone or something else.”

But she shook her head stubbornly.  “You’ll be my husband, and you should have it.  Set up a charitable trust or scholarship fund in my name or something if you don’t need the money for yourself.”

Jon was touched that she was so adamantly ready to make that kind of important legal decision.  He’d like to do the same for her, but he had his kids to think of. 

He pulled her feet into his lap, massaging the arches through her fuzzy socks and explaining almost apologetically.  “My kids will get a lot of my stuff, including any song royalties.  I’d like you to have whatever house and car you want, along with a portion of my liquid assets.”

“The house and car,” she agreed, leaning across her bent knees for a brief kiss.  “If you leave me any liquid assets, I’ll put them aside for your kids or charitable contributions.”

He was on the verge of being completely astounded.  There had never been a doubt in his mind that she was a good person, but even good people got swayed by greed and dollar signs.  His imp wanted nothing more than what she came with. 

Someday soon, Jon was going to have to remember to thank Tony for sending her to fix the TV.

“Sounds like a good place to start,” he concurred with a nod, and then clearing his throat.  “We can always modify the wills later, if need be.”

“Okay.”  Petey swung her legs under her, so that she was sitting on her knees, and twined her arms around his neck.  “Does that mean we have time to play?” she inquired innocently, icy blue sparkling with mirth.

Jon smiled up into her face, knowing that even if they were late getting to Leo’s office, it was about to be play time.  “Mnhhh.  I dunno.  You got any more calls to make?”

“Yes.  Gavin.”  She tunneled her fingers into the back of his hair.  “But I’d rather visit than call.  I’ll stop by his place after we finish in Jersey.”

Lifting his arm above her shoulder, he looked at his wristwatch.  “In that case, we have about half an hour to get dressed and be out the door.  How fast can you come?”

Impish didn’t begin to describe her grin.  “Depends on how good you are.”