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i am my beloved's / and my beloved is mine; he browses among the lilies

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Sitting, clammy hands gripping the white cloth of their dress, heart beating in their throat, Ranboo takes a deep breath. One more. And another.

Okay, so they’re not especially calm right now. As much as Ranboo tries their best to will the nervous butterflies away, the fluttering in their stomach only worsens. But it’s fine, really! It’s just the jitters; Tubbo is probably just as nervous about signing the ketubah.

Well, okay. He doesn’t look nervous, but Ranboo knows him. They know almost everything about him; his routine, his favorite foods, his favorite ABBA songs. Most of all, they know that though Tubbo acts aloof, tries to play it cool, he’s just as much of a mess as Ranboo is.

The rabbi begins to speak as Ranboo gently nudges Tubbo, trying to offer some relief from the nerves. Tubbo offers a nudge back.

“In a moment, we’re going to sign the ketubah,” she begins. “We do this because words disappear. They’re not forever. Putting your hands, your names, on a paper with your promises of a life together, that’s your way of holding onto everything you’ve said in the past to make you fall in love.”

She reads the ketubah aloud, first in Hebrew and then in English, passing it along to Ranboo as she does so. They pick up the pen offered to them, breathing out a laugh.

“So, this is it?” Ranboo asks, their hands shaking and heart full. “We’re about to be married. Technically.”

Tubbo smiles at them, and laughs like a madman. “Yeah, bossman, I guess we are!”

Giving the pen to Tubbo, Ranboo shakes their head, the smile on their face only growing wider. “Well, then, you better sign this to make our technical marriage official.”




 

It doesn’t really set in until he’s walking to the chuppah, side-by-side with his brother. He’s getting married. Is already married, in a technical sense.

It’s not that he’s worried; he loves Ranboo. It’s just, in one word, insane. Insane how much he loves this boy, and insane how quickly this had happened. Insane.

“You worried? You’re lookin’ kinda pale,” Tommy says, trying to be quiet and failing miserably. 

“I’m fine!” he says too quickly. “Really, I am.”

“If you’re not, I reckon we could always leave your husband at the altar and join the Eggpire.”

Tubbo thumps him square in the forehead, giggling as he squawks in protest. "Hey! Don't make me drop the candle!"

The chuppah is breathtaking. The birchwood legs are adorned with large, ornate yellow flowers, the branches of which reach high above the tallit on top. Standing underneath, Ranboo looks more nervous than Tubbo’s ever seen them. They’re wringing their hands together anxiously, their tail swishing back and forth and back and forth.

Tubbo removes his arm from where it locks with Tommy’s, taking a step under the chuppah. He takes a breath to steady himself, and then begins circling Ranboo. By the time he’s completed  the last circle around them, he’s dizzy and all too excited.

A sudden calmness overtakes him; it feels as if a fog were lifted, as if the sky had suddenly cleared. Ranboo feels it too, he knows, as their tail’s anxious swishing slows and stops.

The rabbi smiles at them, waiting for their confirmation that they’re ready. Tubbo nods.

She begins by saying a blessing over the grape juice, and then the kiddushin blessing. She passes the glass to Ranboo first, who looks down at Tubbo before taking a sip. They offer it to him, hand steady, and he takes it to drink from.

 

 

 

Ranboo is holding the ring. The blackness of the Netherite shines, the sun hitting it in just the right spots to bring out the red undertones. 

They take in a steadying breath; in for four seconds, hold for seven, and out for eight.

“With this ring,” they begin, placing the ring on Tubbo’s finger, “I sanctify myself to you according to the law of Moses and Israel.”

They’re crying, now, both of them, their tears welling up and spilling over. Tommy’s crying, too, swatting away a teasing Phil and a worried Niki. In fact, there are a few people with wet eyes, some wiping them away so they won’t be seen, and some nearly wailing.

It isn’t much better as the sheva b’rachot begins; when Tommy is called up to recite the last of them, he nearly doesn’t finish through his blubbering. 

It’s the happiest Ranboo’s ever been.

They grab their husband’s hand-- their husband’s hand- -and look over at him as they get ready to break the glass. 

"Ready?”

“Hell yeah, big man.”

They stomp the wine bottle under their heels at the same time, as a chorus of Mazel Tov!’ s break out.

 




“Honestly, I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do.”

They’re sitting across from each other, alone now that they’re in the yichud room. Ranboo’s fidgeting, anxious as ever, while Tubbo is  sitting with his feet propped up on the table.

Tubbo’s smile sharpens, seeing his chance to annoy Ranboo and taking it. “Each other?”

Ranboo boos him, despite the smile on their face.

It’s quiet for a while after that. Not uncomfortably so, though; it’s been a busy day, and they’re tired. They take the time to soak up each other’s presence, in the seclusion of this room. A reprieve from the day’s events.

His hand is in Ranboo’s, the hard metal of the table digging into his elbow. The artificial light above them is flickering and buzzing. The sounds of music and laughter on the other side of the door seep in through the quiet, making a place in Tubbo’s heart.

 

 

When they do exit, they’re greeted with music and their friends’ loud laughter and teasing. Tommy tries several times to get Ranboo to dance with him instead of Tubbo, to very little avail.

Ranboo isn’t a great dancer (and, admittedly, neither is Tubbo), but they try their best to stumble through the first dance, bending down awkwardly to match their husband’s height. 

On any regular day, Ranboo would feel immensely embarrassed at this moment. Making a fool out of themself, slumped clumsily as they step over Tubbo’s feet in a dance everyone is watching. Today, they feels elated.

“I really feel like I should’ve told you this before we got married,” Tubbo begins, “but you do know I’m going to kill you and take all your money, right?”

A laugh escapes them, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Is that so? Man, how unfortunate for me.”

“Is it, now?”

Ranboo shakes their head. “No, it isn’t.”

Tubbo smiles then; it's a small, crooked thing. Ranboo can't help but return it, as they bend down to cup their betrothed's face, giving him a gentle kiss.

It was perfect.