Rating: PG

Summary: It's a reception. Enjoy.

Spoilers: None.
 

"Have I told you lately that I love you?
Have I told you there's no one else above you?
You fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness,
Ease my troubles, that's what you do..."

"Have I Told You" by Van Morrison.
 

Euphrosune
 

May 15, 2000

The Reception

"Doesn't seem fair. Everyone got to go to the bar but us ahead of time," Langly whined.

"You've got your beer, be happy," I giggled, taking a long, hard drink of my own. "I think I'm going to switch to tequila after this, though."

"Why, so you can get drunker faster?" he teased.

"That, and tequila makes me really horny," I grinned.

"And here I thought it was my irresistable physical charm."

"That, too. C'mon, let's go talk to some people."

"There has to be a hundred tables here," Langly mused.

"70. Plus ours makes 71."

"This is amazing. All these people came out just for us."

"Pretty nice, isn't it?"

"Thought you freaked out at these things."

"I took Frohike's advice."

"Oh, God." He rolled his eyes.

Our first stop was a table of my mother's friends-get the civilities out of the way as quickly as possible, I figured. I knew some of them, but not all. Elmer, her bookie, was actually there, which amused Langly no end.

"Doesn't look like a bookie."

"No, more like a librarian."

"Reminds me of Byers."

"He was an actuary before."

"Her bridge partner, Richie-is he-"

"Gay? Richie's flaming. He and my mother share a hotel room like girlfriends on the circuit."

"Guess she's got nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, but watch your ass. I hear he likes young cute blondes." I pinched his butt, and he jumped a little.

"Watch it, girl."

"I was. That's why I pinched it."

Our next stop was the Fibbies. I recognized a number of them from work, including Pendrell, Dana's lab rat. At the second table was Walter Skinner. He heartily congratulated us, and shocked the hell out of me by kissing me. I'd truly underestimated this man, I'd decided. He could seem cold at work, but he was obviously sincere.

We moved on to a table of upscale hackers. Contrasted with the tattoo and cartilage-piercing crowd, this group looked like a group of insurance agents, but their conversation was lively and engaging. In the midst of one of the tables, Langly escorted me over to a buxom blonde woman with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen.

"Ringo Langly!" Her expression was one of pure delight. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Ally, this is Luanne Russell, she who busted me many years back. Hear you've come over to the dark side," he smiled.

"Well...I wouldn't call it that. And you! Working at the Pent! You are behaving, aren't you, Langly?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, sure," he smiled in a fashion that said, right, yeah.

"Well, it's good to see him settled with a nice woman," she said as she took my hands in hers. "He's grown up."

"Everyone says that. Makes me wonder what he was like before."

"I'll tell you some stories someday," Luanne grinned wickedly.

"Please don't," Langly said, rolling his eyes to heaven.

"And Langly? I get to dance one dance with my second favorite bust."

"Only second?"

"Well, K.C. and I, you know..."

"Oh, yeah, right. Okay, Lu, I'll settle for sloppy seconds."

"Good to see you in this setting, Langly."

Our next stop was a table of Langly's coworkers from the Pent. Sheridan, of course, was there, already drunk.

"Suggest Richie," I whispered. "I don't think Richie's ever done mulatto before."

"Yeah, but Richie's so fucking old!"

"So's Sheridan." Who was somewhere in his 50s, by the looks of things.

"These guys don't look much different from any of the other hackers," I commented to Langly. "Maybe a little older-"

"We all have one thing in common," Langly pointed out.

"What's that."

"We got caught."

"So that's how you get this job."

"I think so."
 

"You guys, hurry up and get back to the table!" Miranda was running after us, motioning us to return to our chairs.

"Why?" We demanded together.

"'Cause Byers is about to do the toast!" She shook her head as though she couldn't believe we didn't get it. "Hurry up!"

"How many more years before she goes off to college?" Langly eyed me nervously.

The DJ instructed whoever was missing from the wedding party to get their butts back to the head table, now, including the happy couple.

"Oh, cool, they remembered our glasses," I commented when we sat down. There was a small golden quantity of champagne in two of the crystal flutes Byers and Juliet had given us.

The DJ handed Byers an FM wireless, the savior of the voices of college professors everywhere. Byers was an experienced and articulate speaker, but this time, he seemed somewhat ill at ease, unsure of what to say. We smiled at him, with a 'say anything' look on our faces.

Mistake.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began in his soft, modulated tone, "thank you all for coming today. I know that many of you have traveled a long distance and at considerable expense to be here for an occasion I did not, in my worst nightmares, ever imagine happening." Laughter.

"I met Langly 11 years ago, right here in this very location. Our lives were very...different before we met, to say the least." More laughter-I guess the crowd was getting pretty liquored up in a hurry.

"In that time, I've learned many things about Langly...such as his inability to perform the most basic domestic tasks, the fact that he can both talk and type simultaneously, his ability to listen to ear-splitting music at volumes that would shatter glass..." Byers would never make it in stand-up, but apparently people were drinking enough that they found this amusing.

"But mostly I've learned about what a good friend he can be. Langly, you are a royal pain in the ass, and I very much doubt that marriage will improve that aspect of your personality...but you've always been there for me, and I'm honored to be here for you today, and to call you my friend."

Loud applause.

"I met Ally 1 and a half years ago, when she first moved into the area. And if Langly and I had had her way, we probably wouldn't have...it seemed at the time that houseguests would be a major inconvenience, at minimum.

"I'm happy to say that I couldn't have been more wrong. Ally's become a very dear friend to me. And best of all, she keeps Langly from getting completely out of hand." More laughing.

"So Ally, Langly, here's to you, a lifetime of love and happiness. I'm honored to be part of that."

A loud, musical clink of glasses, and a sip of champagne-I was about to switch over to tequila, and I didn't need any bubbly screwing up my stomach.

"I was really nervous...I don't usually improvise," Byers whispered to me. "I'd forgotten about this part."

"John, it was lovely, trust me." I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Byers," Langly was blushing a little, and shook hands with the man who was blushing a lot. "Just one thing."

"Yes?"

"Don't ever try to join Second City."
 

I went to the bar to make the switch to tequila, and to my happiness and surprise, the bartender produced a bottle of really good Mescal-always a treat. My mother may not agree with me on things, but she does make certain I'm taken care of. I sat down with a contingent of my LA friends, reminiscing about times past. I missed them all so much...and it seemed as if I'd been with them a thousand light years ago.

"You went blonde this time," Mary Beth was doing her third shot of Mescal. "Is it real?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Even in the privates?"

"Even in."

"Wish my hair looked like that," my friend Robyn sighed wistfully.

"You're still blonde, girl, what are you bitching about?" I said, studying her.

"More grey than blonde these days."

"He's ten years younger than you. Don't worry, he'll catch up."

"He seems really sweet," observed Saundra, another LA party member. "A little weird, but really sweet."

"Wouldn't have married him if he wasn't."

"So what's on the menu?" Mary Beth inquired. Mary Beth is always concerned about what's on the menu.

"I have no idea. The caterer said she knew exactly what to make."

"And you trusted her?" Robyn was aghast.

"I did. I've eaten her cooking, I promise it's good."

"Better be," my friend Rachel teased. "I came too far to get a bad meal."
 

I sat at the bar with the California girls for a while, then returned to my seat when it was announced that dinner would begin serving shortly. Unlike at most weddings I've been to, the DJ kept the music going-and he'd remembered that he'd better do Billy Idol's "White Wedding."

I saw Mulder head over to the DJ, probably making a request, since the DJ did indicate he was open for such things. Shortly thereafter, there was an onslaught of Elvis impersonators taking the floor-and doing a spirited rendition of "Hound Dog." And although Mulder wasn't dressed for the part, he didn't get kicked out of the crowd, either. I looked over at Dana, who looked as if she was actually thanking somebody out there for taking away her hearing at this point.

"Maybe she should've let him wear the costume," I nudged Langly, who was busily tormenting Miranda.

"At least he'd be less obvious. Bet we know who's not getting any tonight."

"Dana's gonna kill him," Miranda observed.

"Dana knew what she was getting into when she married him," I reminded her.

"She's gonna kill him," Langly confirmed.

"And he's not even drunk yet." God help us.
 

"Hound Dog" gave way to "Love Me Tender" and various other Elvis selections-all done loudly, if not with any particular finesse. When the last Elvis tune faded out, Mulder returned to the table-they were beginning to serve dinner, after all-and, having no shame at all, strutted over to his lovely, embarrassed wife.

"Scully, you shoulda let me wear my costume!" he whined.

Dana just rolled her eyes and shook her head. I signed down to her, "At least it wasn't the Bee Gees."

She signed back, "The night is young." And looked mortified.

Letting Genie plan the dinner was a great idea. It was an absolute cholesterolfest-no nouvelle cuisine or rubber chickens for this crowd. No, we were treated to a messy, sloppy, grease-laden, crispy, crunchy, utterly delicious mess of fried chicken, spareribs, tri-tip, enormous baked potatoes, cucumber salad (I begged-it was her one concession to California cuisine), hot seven-grain bread, and for that continental touch, fried mozzarella. It was a killer meal-literally, in all likelihood, since you
could feel your arteries closing up as you devoured it. Meaning that people really liked it.

"I think this is the first wedding food I ever had that I could actually stand to eat," Ellen mumbled in between bites. "God, real food! Can you believe it?"

"Fortunately, I don't think I'll be wearing this dress anywhere anytime soon again," Joan commented, referring to the large barbecue sauce stain that plastered the front of her dress.

"Yeah, but at least it was on clearance," Shelby reassured her, and they both laughed.

"How come you never serve pork, Mom?" Miranda asked, chomping on spareribs.

"Because I'm Jewish."

"You don't keep kosher. And you gotta get the recipe for these."

"If I was Jewish, I'd convert just to eat this stuff," Michael was chomping happily away. "My dad did okay, didn't he?"

I laughed. "Your dad put together a hell of a party."

"Hey, I helped!" Miranda protested.

"I know you put a lot of work into it," I soothed her. "And you did a terrific job." That seemed to placate her, and she returned to her plate of barbecue.

"So what're you dancing the first dance to?" Miranda asked me.

"God, did we pick something?" I nudged Langly, who was engaged in an animated discussion with Jason and Renegade about some type of new firewall being added to some software-whatever.

"What?" He asked, breaking stride in the conversation.

"Did we pick out something for the first dance?"

"I did, don't worry about it. Hey, you'll like it." He returned to discussing the finer points of why this system made a great hack much more difficult, i.e., you were much more macho if you could do this.

"If he picked 'Add It Up,' I'm gonna die," I moaned.

"That is your favorite song, Ally," Shelby pointed out.

"Not for my wedding."

"Maybe he picked 'Closer.'" The Nine Inch Nails tune Langly claimed as his favorite.

"Oh, God. At least 'Add It Up' is humorous."

"Ally, you're panicking over nothing," Byers patted my hand. "I know what he picked. Calm down."

"Are you going to tell me?"

He smiled slightly. "Absolutely not."
 

"We'd like to have our new couple come out for the first dance," the DJ announced. "C'mon you guys, put the drinks down and get over here."

"I have to put down my drink?" I looked in askance at Langly.

"Were you gonna spill it all over me? C'mon," he took my hand and pulled me along.

I don't perform well in front of crowds to begin with, and I was rather nervous. Langly sensed this and lifted up my chin.

"Look at me."

"Okay."

And then I heard the opening strains of Van Morrison's "Have I Told You"-- and I thought I was going to burst into tears. I leaned up to kiss Langly, and he just pulled me in close, murmuring into my hair as we danced.

"You didn't really think I'd do the Dead Kennedys or something like that for this?" he asked, chuckling.

"I wasn't sure," I admitted. "You do have a pretty warped sense of humor. But Langly, I'm...amazed at this." And touched and happy.

"Hey, even I can be a softie from time to time."

"And Frohike'd have killed you if you'd requested 'Rebel Yell.'"

"That, too." He grinned in delight. "I love you, Ally girl."

"I love you too, Langly."

And for a few minutes, it was only the two of us, all alone in the world.

I could have stayed in that space and time forever.
 

Frohike and Miranda both love oldies, so there was plenty of music from the 50s and 60s going around-"Hey, it's got a beat and you can dance to it," was Miranda's assessment-as well as a few oddities, such as David Bowie's "Suffragette City." Okay, so it's a nasty song, but it's fun. I was glad that there were occasional paeans to Langly's and my highly questionable
taste.

I shared the next dance with Byers. He'd danced the obligatory with Miranda, and then took up with Juliet, but he said he was going to have one dance with the bride. He was still recovering from being sick-I wondered if he was ever going to gain back all his weight, and he was having a lot more to drink than usual, so even at this point in the festivities, he was relatively bombed. It was a swing number, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy's "Bumper Boogie," and I'm surprised I didn't kill him while dancing-I'm a klutz at swing dancing.

"So how does it feel?" he asked me as we danced-rather, as he danced and I tried to follow.

"It's pretty incredible," I admitted.

"Yeah, I think he's really happy," Byers flicked a thumb at Langly, who was dancing with Shelby.

"I think most people are on their wedding day. Of course, if he keeps up the pace on the brews that he has, he may not be so happy in the morning." We both laughed.

"Ah, what's a small hangover after a wedding?" I hoped he felt that way in the a.m. Byers was not a drinker, not like the rest of us were, and he was more than likely going to suffer for his achievements today.

"So you, John? Are you happy?"

"You know, I think I am." He smiled a little bit, glancing over at Juliet, who was dancing with one of the Elvis impersonators. "I mean...I swore that after Susanne, I wasn't going to let this happen again...I didn't think I could. I mean, I'm not ready to propose to Julie yet...but I could see it happening sometime down the road."

In the world of girl talk, gems like that are priceless. I was going to have to store that on the hard drive and retrieve when there were no males present.

"I noticed you never put your wedding ring back on," I observed.

"No...I think it's time to retire it and move on."

"You probably should get it back from Frohike."

"No, I think I'll let him hold on to it. Although I have to admit, I still look for it to twist it around and play with it."

"I've seen Langly doing that with his already."

"I've never seen him wear a ring, so it might take some getting used to for him." He glanced over at Langly's hand, then mine. "Those are very beautiful. Very original and unique."

"Yeah, sort of like the couple in question."

The musical number was over, we both laughed, and moved on.
 

"We have an honorary father of the bride, and he would like to have this dance with his honorary daughter-in-law," the DJ announced.

I was drunk enough that this took a moment to register, then realized what they were talking about.

"You don't mind, do you?" Frohike looked a bit uncertain.

"Mind? God, Frohike, I'd be honored."

We danced to "House at Pooh Corner"-I'm not much for that kind of sentiment normally, but with Frohike, it was utterly appropriate. Once again, I felt tears crawl into the corners of my eyes. I was hoping that once this wedding was over, I could turn off the water works for a while... "Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do, got a honey jar stuck on his nose...he
came to me asking help and advice..." Yeah, there'd been a lot of times when I was Winnie the Pooh and he was Owl, and when I couldn't get the honey jar off my nose, he'd been there to pull it. I owed him a lot.

He looked intensely wistful.

"Frohike, what's on your mind?"

"Well...I hope someday...maybe my own daughter will forgive me, and I can dance with her, just as I'm doing with you."

"I hope so, too, Frohike. And I'd like to say that you're the best honorary father of the bride a girl could ever hope to have." I really did hope that Leslie Frohike would get the net and realize what she was missing.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, and kissed me chastely on the cheek as the music faded out.

END OF PART 87