Archive of Our Own ^beta

Benedict (one week later)

Anthony was fidgeting with his cufflinks. Since it was his wedding day, he thought he had earned a good fidget or two (or twenty). 

Benedict looked like he was trying not to laugh. Why had he picked his brother to be best man? He was being of absolutely no use and–

A cufflink went flying through the air, clattering onto the floor and rolling away from Anthony. He stared after it for an indeterminate amount of time feeling unconscionably betrayed by the inanimate object.

"Allow me, brother," Benedict said with a reassuring smile. He swooped down to pick up the item and then walked to stand in front of Anthony. With ease, he slipped the cufflink into place and straightened Anthony's coat. "There." He quirked a brow. "You at least look the part now."

"Thank you." His gratitude was reluctant at best.

Benedict was too distracted to notice. "Are those new? I don't recall you having that style before."

For all his rakish ways, Anthony had thought himself fully immune to blushing. That was apparently not so because he felt his cheeks warm as he was caught out. "A gift from Kate," he admitted as he spun the round gold cufflink, so the fleur-de-lis etched inside pointed toward his heart. "She wanted us both to do the 'something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue' thing."

It was a half-truth that, thankfully, Benedict did not question. Instead his grin widened. "That explains the navy suits. I was wondering…"

Anthony just rolled his eyes. Maybe it wasn't so bad, having Benedict be the one with him after all.

Colin and Daphne (and Simon) (two and a half years later)

It was a long weekend, so the extended Bridgerton clan had gone to Aubrey Hall, their Hampton's home, to enjoy a bit of summer revelry. It was… a lot. A lot of food, a lot of noise, a lot of stress, a lot of people, a lot of fun. 

The weather was especially fine for September and most of them were outside enjoying the pool or sunbathing nearby. Anthony felt himself smile reflexively as he watched Kate for a minute. She was a couple of months pregnant but not yet showing, playing-slash-supervising Ned, Augie, Belinda, and several Bridgerton siblings in the pool. (The nanny they shared with the Basset-Hastings and his mum were helping her.)

"You're looking happy today, dad bod," a voice interrupted his reverie.

None of his siblings could wipe a smile off Anthony's face quite as quickly as Colin. (Though Eloise sometimes came close.) He was the most annoying little brother of all, which was pretty impressive given how much younger in age Greg was.

Unable to stop himself, Anthony glanced down at the swath of chest and stomach that his unbuttoned shirt exposed. He was perhaps less toned than he'd been in his twenties and his manly V was no longer visible, but he didn't have a dad bod. If anything, Colin was looking a bit worse for wear after his latest round of eating his way through every country in the world.

With a huff, Anthony crossed his arms and shook his head. "Charming as always," he retorted in lieu of expressing what was, he decided, too unkind a sentiment even for Colin.

Daphne, currently eight months pregnant and laying close enough to have heard the exchange, propped herself up on her elbows. (It was necessary in order to see her brothers over her belly.) "No one would blame you if you did get one, you know," she told him. "Solidarity with the wife and all."

There was a snort from Simon (he always hovered when Daphne was pregnant– and most of the time when she wasn't) but he didn't voice his disagreement verbally. The fact that his physique was still in peak form from his boxing days, on the other hand, spoke volumes.

"I'm serious," Daphne insisted. "No pregnant woman minds her husband getting fat with her."

Anthony froze just long enough for it to be noticeable but tried to salvage the moment all the same. "Kate's not…" he trailed off at the dubious looks being sent his way by both of the Basset-Hastings. Glancing at Kate, he sighed– she'd be disappointed if she didn't get to tell at least some of their family. "Please don't say anything until after dinner." Thankfully they'd already agreed to share the news that their second child was on the way during the family meal.

Flashing a warm smile, Daphne nodded. "Of course." Simon inclined his head to indicate he agreed.

Colin, on the other hand, looked pleased as punch to have the hot goss. "You can buy my silence for a price, brother." He stroked his chin thoughtfully, not unlike a supervillain . "The shirt off your back will do."

It was probably a continuation of the dad bod joke from earlier but Anthony didn't bother to try and work it out. He just shook his head once in the negative. "It was a gift from Kate."

"That explains the little fleur dudes." Colin shrugged. "Ok, how about beer service then?"

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Fine." He glanced at Simon. "You want one too?" 

"No thanks," Simon replied. This was likely out of solidarity to his wife, since Anthony had it on good authority that his family was best experienced after a few drinks.

As he headed into the house to grab a couple beers (and a bottle of water for his wife– he didn't want her to get dehydrated), he heard Daphne correcting Colin that it was called fleur-de-lis not fleur dudes. It brought the smile back to his face. Because he liked his little fleur dudes. And his family… most of the time.

Eloise (eighteen months later)

"Can I use your credit card to buy my textbooks?"

Anthony looked up to see Eloise standing in the doorway of his home office. Edmund was thankfully awake, entertaining himself in a playpen nearby because his sister had not modulated her voice. "Why hello Eloise," he replied. "It is so nice to see you."

Eloise rolled her eyes. "Hello, brother," she said in a bored tone.

Quirking a brow, he inclined his head toward his son. "Did you want to say hello to your nephew?"

She blinked a few times. "Why? He won't remember either way."

The urge to rub the bridge of his nose in defeat was strong indeed. "Have you ever asked for a favor?" he inquired instead. "Because you are doing a terrible job."

Eloise smiled a little at that. "But can I use the card?"

Shaking his head, Anthony pulled his wallet out and handed it to her. "Pretend I put up a fight, would you? Ned's still not sleeping through the night and I'm exhausted."

That admission earned him a sympathetic nod, at least. Eloise looked at his wallet for a moment before opening it and slipping one of the cards out. After closing the wallet, she looked at it again. "Is this new? I don't remember that little gold sword thing in the corner of your old one."

His old wallet had actually been his father's once upon a time and was held together by duct tape and hope for many years. On his most recent birthday, Kate had given him a new one insisting that he have something to give their son someday, too. 

He took the wallet back from her and slipped it into his pocket. "It is new," he confirmed, meeting her gaze evenly. "I expect you to bring that card right back."

"Of course!" Eloise looked positively scandalized– a good indication that there would be shenanigans. Then she sauntered out of the room, calling a quick, "Thank you," over her shoulder as an afterthought.

Anthony just shook his head and made a note to check over his credit card bill with extra care this month.

Francesca (one year later)

"Don't you look dapper."

Anthony looked up from his phone, trying not to feel guilty that he'd been checking his emails. (To be fair, he was ready to leave and none of the rest of the party coming to the theater that night had arrived yet.) He met Francesca's warm, knowing gaze and couldn't help but smile at her. "Why thank you, Franny."

He stood up, pocketing his phone and then swept her into a warm hug. "You look beautiful tonight," he said into the crown of her head. It was true– but then Francesca had a gentle grace that made even the simplest outfits elegant.

"Thank you, brother," she returned primly when they pulled apart. "Oh no, I've mussed you slightly."

There was a time when Anthony had been quite fastidious about his appearance and a time when he had been quite the opposite. Now he was simply unbothered. "It's fine."

Francesca was already adjusting his tie. "I don't mind," she said, flashing a smile up toward him. After another couple of moments, she patted his jacket lapels. "There. Perfect once again."

"Don't let Kate hear that or I'll never live it down," he joked. Francesca didn't respond, a little wrinkle creasing between her brows instead. "Fran?"

Shaking her head, she smiled up at him again. "Sorry. New tie clip? I was trying to see what the cutout is. Fleur-de-lis, right?"

Anthony's ears warmed. "Er, yeah. Gift from Kate."

The smile on Francesca's face bloomed into a full on grin. "And how is my dear sister-in-law?"

"Late," the lady in question replied, sailing into the room, "as I'm sure your brother was about to point out. To which I would have responded that it is his spawn that requires me to pee every fifteen minutes." Kate pecked Anthony's cheek, her five month baby bump brushing against him, then smiled at Francesca. "You are a vision tonight, Franny!"

Anthony wrapped an arm around Kate and held her close as his sister blushed and thanked his wife. It was, he thought, quite the nicest interaction he'd had with a sibling in a long time. (Understandable, since Francesca was quite the nicest of them all– when she was not exercising her expert cunning or sharp wit, that was.)

Gregory and Hyacinth (four years later)

"Are you seriously wearing a fanny pack right now?" The derision in sixteen year old Hyacinth's voice made Anthony ache for the days when she thought he was the best and coolest brother.

Greg, almost eighteen and almost as mocking, nodded emphatically. "Yeah, that's so 2020."

Anthony fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Look, do you want me to take you to Disneyland or not? Because if we're going, the fanny pack is coming with us."

The entire family had gone to the park together the day before but only the youngest Bridgerton siblings wanted to get an early start again. Anthony had agreed to take one for the team and join them because no one trusted Hyacinth not to end up in park jail (or some equivalent) and Greg was more partner in crime than authority figure given their closeness in age.

Letting out a long suffering and clearly aggrieved sigh, Hyacinth nodded. "Fine. But don't stand too close, okay? Because that thing is ugly A-F."

And just like that they'd crossed from mildly annoying to about to lose their chaperone. "First of all," Anthony started in a tone of voice that made it clear no further attitude would be welcome in their conversation, "it still counts as cursing if we all know what you mean, Hy, so that's coins in the swear jar when you get home. Secondly, that thing was a gift from Kate, so maybe don't be such a dick about it."

"I'm sorry," she said with clear contrition. "It's just– weird. You're such a dad now. You used to be so cool." From her wince, it was clear Hyacinth just couldn't help herself. 

Anthony took a modicum of comfort in the fact that her apology appeared to be sincere, so that was something. And Greg, who definitely still carried at least a tiny torch for his sister-in-law, also looked properly chagrined. 

Shaking his head, Anthony ruffled her hair and earned a scowl in return. "I've two kids and I'm in my mid-thirties. Of course I'm a dad. You're just lucky I don't tell dad jokes." He was shot matching dubious expressions and threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. At least I'm not wearing Crocs, too?" He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel for cool points here.

Hyacinth grinned, obviously relieved. "That's true. Colin's the real travesty. Your fanny pack with the little icon in the corner is definitely the less embarrassing option."

"And you're not doing that thing where you wear it across your chest," Greg added. "So it's not full on tired millennial."

Anthony placed a hand over his heart as if particularly moved. "Stop or I'll think you actually enjoy spending time with me." He nudged Greg's shoulder with his own hard enough to bump him into Hyacinth. "So are we going or what?"

His teenage siblings quickly agreed and the three of them set off. 

Later, after they'd been on more rides than he cared to count and stood in lines long enough to test their tempers several times over, Hyacinth leaned her head against his shoulder and let him put an arm around her. "We do enjoy time with you, you know," she said quietly. "You're a really good dad– corny fanny pack and all."

And if he had to wipe away a few tears, well. At least Kate wasn't there to mock him (or, worse, hug him because then he might've really broken down).

Kate (today)

When Anthony came into his bedroom a week before his wedding, he found Kate rooting around their dresser. "Good evening, Mrs. Bridgerton," he greeted with what was probably an extremely sappy grin. He couldn't seem to help himself.

Kate laughed. "Good evening, Mr. Sheffield-Sharma," she replied, just as she had every time he'd called her by the moniker. "I have something for you." She punctuated the statement by holding up a small box.

"Oh yeah?" He crossed to accept her offering. "What's the occasion?"

She pretended to think for a moment. "Well, there's this wedding next week and I know you need something new…"

Anthony inclined his head in agreement. They'd decided to both follow that old adage and so far he had his suit (something blue), his father's watch (something old), and Kate's father's lapel pin (something borrowed) but nothing new. He opened the box to find a pair of circular gold cufflinks with a small etching nestled inside. "Wow, Kate, you didn't have to do this."

"I know. I thought it'd be nice to have them for the wedding." There was a light flush on her cheeks that momentarily captivated him. (Still, always, forever she was captivating to him.) "And this way we'll both be wearing lilies." Anthony furrowed his brows in confusion. "Because it's a fleur-de-lis." He felt the crease between his eyebrows deepen further and Kate let out a small huff of nervous laughter. "'Fleur-de-lis' translates to 'lily flower.' It's a French thing, I guess, but I just liked that it was pretty subtle." She lifted up one of the cufflinks and pulled it closer to them, so he had a better view of the etching. It looked almost like a dagger. "See?"

Anthony knew he should say something– Kate was obviously anxious about his reception of her gift and his silence was not helping. All he could think of, though, was how absolutely feral he'd been for her even when they hadn't gotten along. How he'd wanted nothing more than to best her and then consume her. Even now, he sometimes caught a whiff of her (soap and lilies and Kate) and it was all he could do not to drag her to him.

His borderline deranged behavior was hardly a secret between them; she was well aware of how enticing he found her. When she'd received a new perfume as a gift from someone, he'd begged her to regift it rather than use it. 

That she wanted him to match her– that she'd put time, energy and money into making it happen– warmed him in a way that only she could. It was a mark that he was hers, even if only they knew it. (A thought that sent a thrill down his spine because he had never wanted to be marked by someone so much as he did by her.)

Kate, not privy to Anthony's internal thoughts, was still rambling. "You hate the idea. You don't have to wear them. It's fine, I can return them and get you something else new. Maybe a–"

"I love them, Kate," he finally choked out, spurred by how very wrong she was about his feelings on the matter. Anthony pulled her close, kissing her deeply. When they needed air again, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled. "I love that you want us to match. I love you."

Finally she was smiling again. "I love you, too," she whispered. She tipped her chin up and kissed him again, closemouthed and soft. "So very much."

(After he finished thanking her thoroughly, Kate commented that if that was the prize she might have to make matching gifts a habit. His response was enthusiastic, to say the least.)