Chapter Text
"You know-” Dylan guessed this was cool. Or something.
Honestly, he should have been used to it by now. “If you would have sucked it up and ate at my brother’s, I would not be having to pay $55.95 for a damn lobster ravioli and side salad."
He was genuinely annoyed at that- almost sixty dollars for a fucking bowl of pasta. But could he be surprised exactly? The restaurant they were at was so ridiculously overrated, which was the main reason Mitch had insisted on them coming here. Well- that and because the waiters spoke actual Italian. Mitch had actually squealed when he read that on the Yelp reviews.
However, Dylan didn't speak Italian and there was a much better option right around the block from here that was extremely reasonably priced.
Mitch just looked at him over the brim of his oversized menu. “I would rather pay for a hundred dollar meal than go to Ryan Strome’s fake Italian joint where he would go out of his way as the owner to sit us at the shittiest table by the kitchen.”
There was a soft amber lamp hanging over them, it created a halo effect around Mitch’s face and Dylan supposed he looked angelic or something like that.
“First of all, a fake Italian joint that you and I have shared many wonderful dinners at. Second of all,” He held up his hands as a wait for it motion, “- he only did that once.”
Mitch rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. He folded the menu shut and clasped his hands together, like he was waiting for Dylan to continue.
“Sitting by the kitchen wasn’t so bad and both our entrees combined would have been under fifty bucks.” Dylan said, and laid his own menu flat to point at the price for the lobster ravioli. It really was unbelievable. “Look!”
Mitch wore a bored expression. “Yeah so? Aren't I worth an expensive dinner once in awhile?”
Taking a sip of his ice water that he was also probably being charged for, Dylan shrugged. “I mean…” He made a gesture like he was weighing the options.
“Why is my husband so cheap all of a sudden.” Mitch frowned.
Dylan watched him reach in the bread basket and take out a torn off piece of sourdough, popping it into his mouth. He bit down his bottom lip to suppress his grin, “We’re not married yet, I’m your fiance. Don’t you know how this works?”
“I don’t care if we’re not married yet, you agreed to spend the rest of your life with me-” Mitch was interrupted by their waitress. She took down their orders in English thank god and this is how dumb Mitch was- he asked about the specials twice and didn't even order one, deciding to go with the salmon instead. When the waitress walked away, he continued right here he left off. “Therefore you are my beloved husband.”
Dylan snorted. “I can still be your beloved, just not your husband yet.”
Seemingly distracted by his reflection in the silverware, Mitch ignored him. To give him some credit, Dylan's never actually seen his reflection in the silverware at Hot Tomato Strome’s. “Also, I'm just letting you know right now that Ryan isn't catering at our wedding.” Mitch casually told him.
Dylan couldn't help but scoff a little at that, “And I’m letting you know right now that this place isn't catering at our wedding.”
He swung his foot under the table, accidently kicking Mitch right in the shin, to which he raised his eyebrows at, “Is that right?”
Dylan matched his expression, “That wasn’t on purpose, I swear.”
“Uh-huh.”
---
So, planning a wedding seemed like more work than he thought. Judging by those thick, binder like bridal magazines that Mitch likes to read- there was a shit ton of things to fight over, agree on and pay for. Emphasis on a shit ton of things to pay for.
They hadn't officially started any planning yet and Dylan already knew he didn't care, didn't want to care about centrepieces or colour schemes or fucking flowers.
“Here's what you need to do-” Jack started, setting his elbows on the table making the silverware rattle. He waited for a minute, letting the anticipation build up and Dylan leaned into it, waiting. “Vegas.”
That made Connor looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed together tightly. “No, you can't tell him that. They need to have a big legit wedding.”
“Drive thru weddings are legit weddings.” Jack countered to which Connor gave him a look across the table. He then turned to Dylan, “You should hire a wedding planner, they’ll take care of all that stuff and you can just leave them with Mitch. I'm sure he knows exactly what he wants.”
“Vegas.” Jack whispers.
Honestly, Vegas didn't sound like a bad idea. He didn't want a huge ceremony thing and it would be a hell of a lot cheaper than paying for a little over a hundred people's dinner plus drinks along with a million other things. He wasn't even totally sure if Mitch had to have a big wedding either. Just because he liked looking at the magazines doesn't mean he actually wanted all of that, right?
“Look up how much a plane ticket would cost.” Dylan says a little demandingly and Connor’s mouth hung open, like he was going to protest but nothing came out. “I'm not- I just want to see how much a plane ticket would cost.”
Jack was grinning inconspicuously into his coffee. Connor started cautiously typing away on his phone somehow all while glaring up at Jack.
“Uhh, so you’re looking at about four hundred per ticket.” he said after a few moments.
Dylan’s shoulders dropped, “What's the drive time?”
Now both Connor and Jack were staring at him, “You would rather drive to Las Vegas than pay eight hundred dollars to fucking fly there?” Jack expressed, his eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Wow, you really are cheap.” Connor snorted and Dylan almost preferred when him and Mitch were fighting.
He smacked Connor on the shoulder. “Look, Mitch has zero money in his savings. Every cent that goes into this wedding, is clearly coming from me. If I can convince him that Vegas is the better option, I’m sure as hell not wasting eight hundred dollars that could be used towards this months rent on overpriced plane tickets.”
And Jesus Christ- Connor really needed to learn how to close his mouth. “Overpriced? Dylan, you would be flying to another country for crying out loud.”
“Yeah and be there in like what four, five hours?” Jack added.
Dylan thought about it. Eight hundred dollars could also cover the expenses to actually get married in Vegas and they would still have some left over.
Okay. Maybe he was cheap but whatever. This was his money, he could use it as he wants so Dylan ignored both of them. “One of you fuckers google how long it would take to drive there.”
“Dyl…” Connor sighed and after a second, “Thirty-two hours.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “A day and a half. So that's like…with my car probably like eighty in gas and another seventy or eighty for a motel room for the night…”
Jack looked at Connor, who looked genuinely concerned now and snickered. “Jesus, not even a hotel but a motel.”
Dylan again, ignored him. “And that's just for me and Mitch- I hope you don't think I'm paying for you guys.”
“Hold on-” Connor actually set his phone down this time. “You expect us to come? To drive all the way to Las Vegas and put all those miles on our car just so you and Mitchell can pull up into a neon drive thru that reeks of tequila in sweatpants? All because you don't want to put the money down for fancy invitations? No way, that's stupid!” He exclaimed, obviously perplexed and his eyes darted rapidly between him and Jack.
“If anyone's getting married, there is going to be a legit wedding with a tiny but charming cake topper of you and Mitch and I expect to see quality napkin holders goddamnit!” Connor even banged his fist on the table, but very lightly because he was Connor and didn't want to disturb the people sitting near them.
Both Dylan and Jack stared at him for a minute, until Jack just shook his head, ignoring his outburst and leaned forward in his seat towards Dylan. “I don't expect you to pay for our travels to Vegas. I’m just saying at least take your future husband, the supposed love of your life to a hotel where he’s not going to get lice from the pillow cases.”
“Okay maybe I can spare a bit of change for a Holiday Inn.” Dylan said.
Jack tilted his head to the side and squinted. “Uhh, I was thinking more like a Marriott but it's okay, we just won’t be staying in the same place.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, “You know, this really isn't a bad idea. Nice job, Eichel.” He reached over to high five him. Connor groaned. “All I have to do is convince Mitch that he doesn't need flowers!” he said.
“Oh god, the flowers.” Connor complained, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. He looked a little worn out just from this conversation and for a second Dylan actually thought he broke him.
---
He did actually end up bringing home a bouquet of flowers the next day just to sweeten Mitch up. He was sort of nervous to bring up the ideas of Vegas, what if Mitch thought he was joking and laughed in his face or worse, got upset? What if Mitch was set on blowing through his entire life savings on groom suits and a venue?
Maybe he should have gotten two dozen roses instead of one but he did get a box of chocolates and a little beanie baby that was on sale by the cash register so that should do.
Mitch was in the shower when he got home, so he had time to set everything up on the table and plan out exactly what he was going to say. He remembered Jack had texted him a few starter sentences earlier that he could try out, but Connor’s ‘don't do it!!! I will not be apart of this!!!’ text was in the way, so he just deleted that one.
Dylan took a deep breath and tried the first one out, “Hey, you know how we’re trying to be more spontaneous?”
He shook his head, that was too broad and not specific enough. So cleared his throat and moved on to the second one, “You can’t fuckin’ force me to marry you in Canada.” No, too aggressive. Mitch wouldn't appreciate that.
He scrolled down to the next one, “You know, budgets are sexy...”
“Oh my god, Dylan.”
He almost gave himself whiplash with how quick he spun around, knocking a roll of paper towels down from the counter. Mitch was standing there with crossed arms, “I can't believe you're still going on about how you love saving money more than you love me.”
“I wasn't uh-” Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets with a careful grin, chuckling uncertainly. “How long have you been standing there?”
Mitch stepped around him to get to the fridge, giving him a weird look. “When you started talking to yourself about how much budgets turn you on.”
He relaxed internally, actually fighting the urge to clutch his heart in relief. “Did you uh- did you see this?” Dylan asked, gesturing to the table where all his bribes were laid out. Mitch peered over, inching forward to the spread. “Valentine’s Day was like three months ago, babe. Is that a beanie baby?”
Mitch picked it up, squishing the beads around. He squinted his eyes suspiciously. “Did you do something?”
Alright, the beanie baby was probably a bit much.
“No, what I can’t buy you a beanie baby every once in awhile?” Dylan questioned as he leaned against the table, picking at the plastic wrap on the box of chocolates.
“Dylan, you’ve never even bought me roses or a box of chocolates until now.” Mitch said and grabbed the chocolates from him, breaking them open. He watched as Mitch picked a caramel filled one out and bit into it, smacking his lips together. “Well, come on- let’s hear it. What’d you do?”
Dylan pulled a chair out and sat down across from him. He started playing with the flimsy bubble wrap that came inside the box just so he had something to do with his hands.
Jack’s sentence starters were so lame, he couldn't possibly use any of them but Mitch seemed to be staring right through him with impatient laser beams of a gaze.
Dylan swore he even heard the sound of a tapping foot and before he knew it, he was blurting out- “So uh hey you know how we’re trying to be more spontaneous?” Fuck, he was now so lame.
Mitch looked off to the side, as if he were trying to remember. “When did we decide that? Was I drunk?”
Dylan shook his head. Yeah, that wasn't going to work. However, Mitch unknowingly gave him a little leeway so he decided to try the other one, but a little softer. “Um, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually. Last week when we went to that bar, you kept going on about how you wanted to do something different when we get married. Like you even said that you didn't want to bother stressing with even finding a place to do it at.”
“Did I? Hmm, I don't remember that.” Mitch said, popping another chocolate in his mouth.
Dylan was sure he was close to breaking a sweat at this point. “Yeah...do you- like what do you think about that?”
He shrugged, “It can be wherever, doesn't matter to me.” Perfect, he was getting a little closer now. Dylan slowly nodded, watching him carefully. “So you’re open to...wherever?”
“As long as we’re not getting married in a cemetery or like, a McDonald's.”
Dylan leaned forward a bit, sneakily pushing the chocolates closer to him and Mitch’s eyes widened, gladly taking another one. “What if we went to Vegas.”
He held his breath and waited. Mitch made a disgusted face, “Eww, that one was rasberry.” He ran over to the sink to spit it out, a long string of saliva hanging off his lip.
Dylan pressed his lips together, “Did you hear me?”
“Hold on.” Mitch came back over to the table, studying the flavor sheet and picked out all the fruit filled chocolates and gathered them to throw away.
“Fuck those raspberry ones, who the hell likes those anyways?”
Dylan was getting a little antsy now, “Mitch.”
“You were saying something about Las Vegas?”
Dylan nodded.
“Sure.”
He stilled, “Are you serious?” Mitch finally sat back down, meeting his eyes now and shrugged. “Why not?”
Dylan had to take a second. Something wasn't right, Mitch must have not been understanding him. “Wait- really? You would want to get married in Vegas?” Dylan repeated.
“If that’s what you want, then yeah. Let’s do it.” Mitch agreed easily.
If Dylan would have known that it’d be this easy, he wouldn't have had gotten so worked up over this and maybe skipped out on buying all these bribes. It sorta was a waste of money.
“Oh thank god. I really didn't want a huge wedding and I was so worried that you needed to have one because of your magazines.” Dylan let out a happy sigh and relaxed back into his chair, folding his hands behind his head and Mitch just grinned at him, “I don’t need anything, Dyl. I jus’ want to marry you.”
Sometimes, when he wasn't busy finding different ways to spend Dylan's money on overpriced Italian food, Mitch could be sentimental and sweet like that.
Still smiling, he picked the beanie baby back up and said, “We better only be doing this once, so let’s go do something different and have fun with it. Although, we’ll have to throw a party for the parents because my mom’s not gonna be happy.”
Dylan was sure his parents wouldn't be too ecstatic either, but he and Mitch were grown adults and they were getting married- they could do it however they wanted.
“Oh, Dylan.” Mitch’s expression fell into a glum realization, “That means we won't be able to register or get presents.”
“We already have too much stuff, we don't need presents.” Dylan said, twisting the gold band around his left hand a few times.
Mitch made a noise of protest, “You don’t need presents. Don’t drag me into you're kind of lifestyle.”
---
“Realistically, we’re looking at about forty hours of actual driving time and that’s not counting stops.” Jack stated as he scribbling something down on the pad of paper in front of him.
Dylan frowned, “What happened to thirty two hours? Both Google and Connor said so.”
He looked up with an amused smile on his lips. “Mmm, yeah no. There’s no way that’s gonna happen. Trust me, you're not gonna want to be in the car for more than ten hours a day.”
After he and Mitch officially agreed on getting hitched in Vegas, they decided on this notion: the sooner, the better. Dylan was just so relieved that his soon to be husband was cool enough to do this in the the first place, he was ready jump online and book their plane tickets but when he offhandedly mentioned about how he stupidly thought about preferring to drive there, Mitch’s eyes widened excitedly and he got all giddy because road trip. And look- it was cute and Dylan could only put his foot down so many times or rather, attempt to.
So that’s what they were doing. They would have to take at least a week off just to drive there anyways, so they decided to make this a two week trip. A two week trip that Dylan didn't want to plan and that’s why they were sitting at the best window booth Hot Tomato Strome’s had to offer and why he was making Jack do his dirty work.
Dylan had sent Mitch a picture of their table to prove they weren’t by the kitchen and he’d just texted back the emoji with the zipped mouth shut.
Coincidentally, Mitch was running late. Which Dylan knew was a lie and that he was probably still at home, watching one of those annoying midday talk shows while he finished off the rest of his chocolates.
Connor was supposedly ten minutes away with Mikey and Nate who had no clue about the Vegas thing yet so that's really who Dylan was waiting on.
“I’d say it’s safer to aim for nine or ten hours of driving each day minimum.” Jack said again. “It’ll take four days to drive there if we’re going at a comfortable pace and back which leaves us six days for a wedding get and spend drunk.”
“Four straight days of ten hours in the car. Huh.” he mumbled. Despite not looking forward to that, Dylan was getting more and more anxious every day.
He was getting married. Married to his fiance, someone who he’d actually at one time hated and never thought he would have ended up with three years ago. And they were doing it in Las Vegas- the city where whatever happens there, stays there. It was all unraveling so quick and unexpected, but it was exciting. He kinda loved it.
He’s never been to the Nevada before, let alone even to the States and he's sure none of the other guys have either, except for Jack of course. “I know but trust me.”
Dylan was having Jack figure all this because he was an expert in long road trips. He’s heard all the infamous stories a billion times each about the many spring breaks to the Vegas Strip where endless nights of partying, hangovers and losing money to the slots occurred.
And because he's actually driven there from Boston in college, yeah Jack's kinda the expert. “I guess I can trust the American.”
Jack tapped his pen against the notepad, looking around. “Damn straight.”
Dylan made sure to put an order in for a large pizza twenty minutes before so it would be ready by the time they arrived. Well, they've been here for about fifteen minutes now and it still wasn't ready.
He considered complaining, but there were enough people working here that already thought of him as Ryan’s bratty little brother because of the lies Ryan implanted in their brains. Honestly, his brother should be glad he was even giving them business.
“Go get me more Diet Coke, will you?” Jack held out his plastic cup. The tip of the straw was flattened out with teeth marks. Dylan made a face at that and Jack just rolled his eyes, “You’re forcing me to plan out your dumb road trip so you can get married in a drive thru, the least you can do is fill my cup.”
Dylan snatched his cup from him, “You were the one that came up with the idea in the first place.”
“Yeah when I didn't know I would become your own personal trip advisor.”
He thought about filling the cup with regular Coke instead of Diet but Jack would surely spot the difference just by looking at it. He and Connor were very weird about their Diet Coke.
Dylan ended up walking by the kitchen, really slowly to peek inside- just to see if he could spot a pizza but had to duck his head when one of the cooks made eye contact with him.
Of course when he got back to the table, Jack was happily sitting there with their pizza like nothing. Figures.
“Where's Mitch at again? Something about being stuck in traffic?”
He sure was. Mitch must’ve really loathed coming here if he was intentionally missing out on his road trip Vegas planning. “That's what he says.” Dylan shrugs, then checks the time on his phone. “What’s taking them so long to get here?”
This time Jack jutted his chin out, “Right there.”
As if on cue, Dylan felt a breeze of air flash by him and looked up to see Mikey sliding in the booth next to Jack. “What’s up? Marner not here?”
“Traffic.” Jack answered. “Or he got tired of Dylan’s cheapness so he married someone else.”
Mikey looked a little confused but laughed along anyway. “Who married someone else?” Nathan quipped as he slide in next to him. He pointed to Jack’s notepad. “What are you writing over there huh? Poetry?”
Jack took a break from sipping on his drink with a careful expression. Okay- Dylan might have mixed regular and Diet Coke together. He’d just wanted to see what would happen. “Excuse me, these are my calculations.”
Connor now joined them, setting down a stack of napkins down along with a Diet Coke of his own and as soon as he sat down, Jack asks, “Hey do you think we should rent a car or just take mine? Cause if we take mine, I’ll have to take it into the shop before we go…”
“I just want to let everyone know that I am choosing not to participate in decision making because I don't agree with two of my best friends getting married in Vegas so with that being said-”
“Wait, what?” Nathan interrupted, leering over at Dylan with an astounded expression. “You’re gonna go to Las Vegas to get married? I thought Marner wanted a huge and expensive wedding?”
Connor jumped in before Dylan could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, well we can all say goodbye to that because Dylan’s going to pull right up to a drive thru-”
This time Mikey was the one to shake his head and look even more confused. Mikey just always looked confused. “What?”
“Okay, nobody listen to Connor. I never even said anything about doing it in a drive thru.” Dylan announced to the table, then glanced at Connor who just raised his eyebrows, “Stop trying to make me look bad.”
Dylan continued, “Listen, Mitch and I just decided we don't want a big wedding, so we’re gonna take a trip to Vegas and just... do it.”
“Wait are you guys getting married in Vegas too?” Mikey asked, pointing in between Connor and Jack.
What truly brings Dylan great joy in life, is when Connor gets all flustered and red from embarrassment. Especially when he deserved it from being so aggravating. It was all very satisfying.
“Are you kidding me, I am not getting hitched in Vegas! Unlike everyone at this table, I actually appreciate and value the traditional wedding.” Connor exclaimed.
Jack’s eyebrow’s scrunched together and he crossed his arms. “Yeah we know. You literally haven't stopped talking about it all week. What are you trying to tell me here?”
He was obviously joking to mess with him, but the way Connor still got all hot and bothered was priceless. Jack smirked at them and Dylan couldn't help but stifle his own laugh before surveying back to Mikey and Nate. “Well you guys are coming, right?”
The pair just looked at each other reluctantly, “You want us to drive all the way to Las Vegas?” Nate questioned.
Dylan nodded. “Uhh, all the way there?” Mikey repeated while still looking to Nathan apprehensively.
“Guys, Mitch and I are getting married and you don't even want to spend that with us?”
After a few moments of nervous chuckling from Mikey, Nate just shrugged and reached for a slice of pizza, “We can come, but you do know how much easier it would be to just go to city hall and do it, right?”
“Oh how boring would that be. Jesus, guys live a little.” Dylan said, rolling his eyes.
Mikey seemed to perk up a little, tugging his sleeves further down his arms, “I can live a little, I’m just not sure my car will…”