A/N: Oh fuck a duck how do you plot?

Here you go.

I have no idea where this fic is heading anymore, to be honest, but, hey, join me on this trip through crazytown anyways!

(^-^')

Groom's Bride

After their chat, after he'd calmed down, Eddie was strangely... Shy, almost. Oh, he wasn't suddenly a rational human being or anything. He still manhandled Waylon, first into the towel/sheet, then onto the same table as before, moving the technician this way and that, before using one hand to easily pin him down while he sewed up the gash in his stomach, ignoring Waylon's hisses and grunts easily. But, he would occasionally hesitate, pale blue eyes peering shyly at Waylon for a moment before refocusing on whatever task he'd given himself.

It kind of reminded him of their old neighbors fat, old min-pin whenever it got in trouble. Bulgy eyes huge and wet and imploring...

And creepy.

Definitely creepy.

God, he hadn't thought Eddie could get creepier, emotion wise. He'd been pretty easy to understand, if not easy to expect. He was happy, sweet Eddie who was all snuggles and kisses, and then he was the Rage-Quit Die You Whore Groom. There was even the occasional Vaguely Sane Mr. Gluskin The Tailor kinda mood, but those were rare and he'd only seen it twice, and both times had been when he'd been crawling through the vents to find a place with food, and had found Eddie after he'd come down from hanging a Failure Bride. The man had almost looked lonely, unsmiling and half-closed eyes focused on stitching up a tear in what looked like an extra vest.

Now, it seemed, he'd found another facet to the man named Eddie Gluskin. The "I Know I Messed Up Please Don't Be Mad You're Precious To Me" side that seemed like a mic between Happy Eddie and a desperately lonely child.

He doubted he'd see this side any more than the Mr. Gluskin side, and goddamnit he needed to stop mentally analyzing the psychopathic Groom before he developed some sort of automatic defense for each side and got even crazier.

Fuck, he would kill for some aspirin or maybe just a freaking cough drop in this hellhole, he felt like shit.

"There you go, Darling," Eddie murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the bandage he'd covered the new stitches with, lips lingering as that doleful look appeared again, peering up at Waylon from his stomach.

...God, that was fucking creepy.

"Thank you, Eddie," he told the Groom hoarsely; Doleful immediately turned into Happy as Eddie grinned. "I'm very tired, Eddie," Waylon informed the Groom honestly, wearily, and instantly found himself being scooped up into the Groom's arms again, the man crooning at him and kissing his forehead with a sweet smile.

"Of course, my Darling Waylon, let me get you something to eat and sleep in, and then you can go right to bed. I know women can be emotional, and how draining they can find it, so I don't want you to worry about a thing, alright, my Darling? After all, it's a Husband's job to care for His Wife." He stated it, a fact and a mantra together, and, for the first time, Waylon wondered who had given Eddie his delusional morals.

He'd glanced at the other man's folders, weeks ago when he'd first been trying to get out. He knew that the other mans childhood mirrored his own to a degree.

So, where did he get these ideals from?

...Waylon made a mental note to try and hunt down that folder again.

Eddie carried him back into the bedroom, setting the technician down on the foot of what seemed to be a homemade mattress, now that he was awake enough to actually notice. He was them easily manhandled into another mix-matched nightgown, again feeling like a hobo-queen, damn it all.

"I'll be right back, my Darling Waylon," the Groom crooned affectionately, kissing his forehead again.

"I'll be here," Waylon told him, hoarse voice sardonic, because he couldn't even get the strength to stand on his own, so it wasn't like he'd just walk away. Eddie took it as... Well, something else, Waylon didn't know, but his face did that weird ass softening/proud thing, that utterly patronizing 'oh whose a good puppy? You are!' bullshit that he'd done earlier that made Waylon's hackles rising immediately.

"I shan't be gone long, my sweet," he crooned tenderly, all but skipping out of the door, expression dreamy.

God, he was weird.

Waylon carefully let himself fall back onto the mattress, mindful of the dull pull of his new stitches. He'd always hated them, the way they would tug and pull if he moved to much, how he couldn't get them wet because it would mess with either the string or the flesh, causing swelling that would damage him further.

Fuck, his damn ankle hadn't needed stitches after his first run in with Eddie, it had healed up just fine!

Leaning up on his elbows with a grimace, he squinted at said ankle.

Sure, it had an ugly-looking red scar on it, and it hurt if he jumped or ran to long, and, sure, when it was cold, the muscles cramped, but it wasn't so bad.

...Fuck, he was fucked if he ever had to run from Eddie again, goddamnit, he doubted a convenient fucking pole is gonna fall from the damn ceiling again, which, by the way, how the fuck had he lived through that? And why wasn't he at least severely injured or something?

"Oh, Darling!"

Speak of the devil...

Eddie popped into the room with the same bright, giddy smile he'd warn when they'd first met, holding a tray with a bowl of something steaming on it. Waylon's mouth watered against his will at the smell of chicken noodle soup.

God, he hadn't had hot food in weeks!

"I hope you don't mind soup, my sweet," Eddie told him cheerfully, balancing the tray with one hand as he reached for Waylon with the other, grabbing him by the upper arm firmly and all but dragging him up the bed, making the smaller man grunt as he was unceremoniously shoved into a sitting position that made his stitches ache. "There is such a small selection of edibles here that are not... Hmm... Vulgar, if you understand. And I didn't want to risk your delicate stomach after such a harrowing day." The Groom set the tray on Waylon's lap, and them proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed next to his feet, and proceeded to stare at him intensely, with that giddy smile in place and one of those massive hands curling around the very ankle he'd just been examining.

"Th-thank you Eddie," Waylon managed hoarsely; instantly, Eddie's expression transformed into that very same happy/proud/condescending look he'd worn just a few minutes ago, and his thumb rubbed firmly against the raw scar tissue on the limb, making Waylon twitch as he tried not to shiver.

God, Eddie was creepy.

"Eat up, my Darling Waylon," the Groom coached tenderly, smiling. "You'll need your strength, so that you'll heal faster, and I can begin to court you properly." Waylon stared blankly for a second, before turning his attention to the soup. There was a plastic spoon sitting in the soup, and he carefully used that to lift the first bite. It was cheap chicken noodle, one of those gross low-sodium ones that taste watered down.

But it was the first hot meal he'd had in ages, and it made him hum happily, closing his eyes to savor it. Eddie chuckled and rubbed his ankle again, but Waylon ignored him as best as he could and proceeded to enjoy his meal.

"So easy to please," Eddie murmured tenderly, reaching out and cupping his face, making Waylon still and stare at him with a cautious, careful expression, but Eddie only chuckled and rubbed his thumb against Waylon's cheekbone and pulled back, nodding at the tray again. "Eat, Darling." His voice, while still tender, was edged with firmness, and Waylon mentally shrugged before continuing.

It wasn't like he wanted to stop eating the hot food, after all, and, besides, Eddie was right in that he'd heal faster with rest and good food.

Maybe his ankle wouldn't be as much of an issue, next time he had to run.

Eddie's hand tightened on his ankle, as if sensing his thoughts, and Waylon reacted automatically, the Engine rumbling in the back of his head and making his eyes tighten in pain as he looked up and offered The Groom a half-smile.

"I really like it, Eddie," he told the groom quietly, but honestly. "Thank you." Immediately, Eddie's grip when loose, and his eyes wide, the pale blue going lighter as his mouth went slack. He looked surprised and, as Waylon watched, a ridiculously bright red flush crept up the larger man's neck and lit his ears up.

Well, Waylon thought, honestly bewildered. I made a psycho blush. Huh.

"I, well, that is to say, um..." Eddie stuttered, shifting, eyes remaining focused on Waylon as he lifted his hand to sweep over his neatly done hair, before he cleared his throat and turned away to look at the door, showing off the equally bright red of his neck. "I'll just..." And then...

The Groom fled.

Waylon stared after him for several seconds, utterly bewildered, before slowly going back to his cooling bowl of soup.

He was so weird.

A/N: This chapter is shorter, yes, and took longer, also yes, because how do you plot? I have no idea where this is going, but I had a horrific nightmare the other night and am going to share it in this fic because it had to do with some of the characters, so, yeah!

Look forward to that!

(No, seriously, I apologize in advance because traumatizing bullshit oh god)

Review!