His fingers curl around the back of Burr's head, and his wrist, another place where scent rises from the body, presses against Burr's throat -- before withdrawing, enough to place his hand in Burr's. Delicate, the way a bride would, to invite a ring placed.

"I don't promise obedience," and Alexander's voice is hushed. "Any vow of faithfulness could be rightfully doubted. But I promise, I vow, I will love and honor and keep you." His thumb brushes away the tears that have already worked themselves free from Burr's eyes. "We may register it for the --" A soft breath. "The twins." The twins. "But my promise is for you. You are the only witness who matters to me."

He is giddy with nerves, sick with the wrenching change from grief to incredulous joy. He is casting himself wildly into an unknown future. If Burr puts that ring on his finger, now, he will consider himself married, in all the ways that matter.