Kat Lee (katleept) wrote,
Kat Lee

Wedding Brawl of the Century

Title: Wedding Brawl of the Century
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy, Ensemble
Rating: G/K
Challenge/Prompt: 1_million_words Say What Friday: "One man's folly is another man's wife." -- Helen Rowland
Warning(s): Future Fic
Word Count: 1,446
Date Written: 1 May 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.

She had given up thinking this day would ever come again, but yet here she was, well over the age of fifty even if she never admitted such aloud, about to make another huge change in her life. Always before she had had doubts. She had had questions. She had had fears that things would not work out right. But this time, she knew she finally had it right. She had the right relationship; she had the right life partner.

And yet, still, she was nervous. She looked beautiful, Blanche thought observing her reflection with careful scrutiny and pride. Her wedding dress would be the talk of the town, but then, their union already had tongues wagging faster than the speed of light. No one but herself and the three people closest to her in all the world had seen this union coming, and it was as modern, brash, and entirely unconservative as she herself. It made perfect sense, then, that she shouldn’t dress in white. Besides, red had always been her favorite cover and flattered her flawless features quite well.

“Are you nervous?” Rose asked as she turned to face her.

She took her best friend’s hands and squeezed them. “Yes!” She laughed.

“It’s just Dorothy!”

“Ah know, but . . . But who would have thought we’d make it this far?!”

“No one out there,” Rose whispered, cracking the door open and looking out at Blanche’s audience. “That’s for sure.” She shut the door quickly and squeezed Blanche’s hands. “But it’s going to be fine. You two were meant together!”

Blanche shook her head in wonder.


“Ah just . . . Ah nevah would’ve thought it of you, Rose Nylund. You’re so prim an’ proper, never do anythin’ wrong, and yet here you are supporting your two best friends, two women, getting married!”

Rose looked at her steadily. “That’s because,” she spoke earnestly, “you two belong together! You always have! I saw it even before you two did, and then you kept running for years.”

Blanche laughed again, but she was smiling. “Well, who would’ve thought,” she questioned, “that there was no man who could make me happy an’ keep me that way?”

“Me, and Dorothy. You don’t belong with a man, Blanche. Maybe you belonged with George, but that was then. This is now. George is gone. He’s your past, and Dorothy is your future.” Rose’s eyes glistened with sheer joy. “The two of you are going to be so happy!”

The two friends hugged. Rose looked up as she heard the wedding march begin to play. “Come on. They’re playing your song.” She flashed her a wide grin.

Blanche took Rose’s hand, and they began the march together. She gripped her harder and harder as they passed row after row of men. “What are they all doin’ here?!” she whispered frantically to Rose for she had recognized every face and knew she had not invited any of them.

“We’re here to celebrate you, chica!” Coco called from one of the closest aisles.

“We’re here to watch this fiasco actually happen!”

“Yeah! One man’s folly may be another man’s wife, but that’s another man’s, not a woman’s!”

The music stopped. Up ahead, through the tears beginning to well in her eyes, Blanche saw her beautiful Dorothy and her mother waiting for her, both looking thunderous. Sophia started spouting Italian, but before she could act, Angelo appeared at her side. He grabbed her wicker purse and pushed it down beside her. “Let us handle this, Sophia.”

Blanche blinked in surprise as Angelo, suddenly looking far younger than his actual years and far more like an Italian godfather, started down the aisle. Somebody grabbed her shoulders from behind, but before she could holler, Coco pressed a swift kiss to the back of her head. “It’s just me,” he told her. “We’ve got this. You keep moving. Don’t let anybody rain on your parade, beautiful.”

She shook her head, but this time with a toss of pride. She was beautiful, and she was going to marry the woman she loved! With Rose’s hand now gripping hers harder, Blanche continued proudly down the aisle. Angelo hurried pass her, and she saw Stan, who had also not been invited, moving quickly out of the corner of her eye. Coco was not alone but was joined by several other gay men. Miles, who had never before been a fighter, was there as well.

“This is a house of worship!” the priest exclaimed as the first punch was thrown.

“Then what are two women doing getting married?!”

“It should be a man and a woman!”

“No woman has the right to Blanche Devereaux!”

“Blanche Devereaux,” Blanche retorted to her former suitors, “has the right to any woman she chooses! An’ Ah choose Dorothy!” There, before them all, she let go of Rose’s hand and drew Dorothy into her arms. She kissed her long and deep before the pulpit. Shouts and curses exclaimed behind them, and more punches resounded.

Dorothy trembled slightly in Blanche’s arms as she finally raised her lips from hers. She looked to the Priest and lowered her head in a show of humility. “Go ahead, Father.”

She could barely hear the Preacher for the fight behind them, but she knew the words he was saying by heart. She had done this once before herself, after all, and had prepared to do it several other times. She knew every word, and she knew when to exclaim, “Ah do!”

By the time the Father got to telling them they could kiss the bride to seal their union, none of the women could hear a word he was saying. He gestured with his hands for them to come together, and Blanche again kissed Dorothy.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan yelled. He grabbed a man just before he could tackle the wives and pulled him back into the fray. Another onrusher met Sophia’s loaded purse face forward, and still another got struck back by Dorothy. A fourth was about to reach them when he was slammed in the face by the Preacher’s own Bible.

The Preacher winked at them. His mustache twitched. “Sometimes you have to go a little Old Testament,” he explained before holding out his arm to Sophia. “Shall we?”

“MAYBE WE SHOULD GO OUT THE BACK?” Rose had to shout to be heard above the fray.

“NO! THIS IS MAH WEDDIN’ DAY, AN’ WE’RE GOIN’ OUT IN STYLE!” Blanche took Dorothy’s hand in one hand and Rose’s in the other and started stubbornly back down the aisle. The Preacher flanked Sophia, placing the oldest woman there between himself and her daughter.

Rose cried out and ducked as a fist almost connected with her face. Miles was there in an instant, however, caught the other man’s fist, and shoved him back with all his force. He stayed beside Rose and the other women, shielding them from that angle, and as Angelo and Stan fell in on the other side.

Blanche swelled with pride as she heard, “MY SISTER DESERVES TO BE HAPPY!” thundered out by Coco. He and his men didn’t walk with them out of the church, but they stayed behind and kept fighting. They kept fighting for what they had fought for for as long as she had known them: for the right for those they loved to be happy.

Later, when Blanche was again able to pull Dorothy close, there was concern in her new wife’s eyes. “I didn’t want our wedding day to be like that,” she whispered, “to be -- to be so full of fighting.”

Blanche flashed her a bright, wide smile. “It was a weddin’ to be remembered. Miami’ll never forget our wedding,” she said proudly. She knew she was right. News crews had been arriving at the church just as they’d been leaving, and they were still flashing pictures of the Wedding Brawl of the Century every time the news played. Activists were gathering outside the church now, and the Preacher had weddings scheduled for the next two years. They had started a movement, and she was proud to be the start of it.

“We started somethin’ wonderful, Dorothy,” she breathed excitedly against her lips.

“Yes. Yes, we did. We started our new life together.”

“You know Ah mean more than that!”

“I know, but that’s all I care about, Blanche Devereaux. Whatever comes from that mess will come from it. I just want to be happy and free to love you.”

“Well, you are, shugah.”

“Yes. Yes, I am!” Dorothy drew her into a long, fiery kiss that was just the beginning of the wedding night they would both remember for the rest of their lives.

The End
Tags: golden girls: blanche/dorothy
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