Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cerie gets married on an unnamed island in the Caribbean, and Kenneth is the only one from TGS invited to the wedding. He doesn’t go, he’s got enough moral objections to fill Tracy’s money hole in Florida, but he gives her a bouquet of flowers the day she returns to work, even if his smile is a little tight.

“What’s wrong Kenneth? You look like Liz did after she found out the dust in her offbrand Mexican Cheetos was just sawdust and flavouring.” Frank said, sitting low in his chair and ignoring the way Liz’s head shot up at the sound of her name, making her badger face at the memory.

“Well, Mister Rossitano, I know you’re all going to hell, Reverend Gary’s made that very clear,” Kenneth announced, wringing his hands together, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, “but it’s just hard seeing, well, the proof.” Though he’s addressing Frank, it’s clear he has everyone’s attention. At their incredulous, and a little offended, looks, he leaned forward, stage whispering. “Miss Cerie got married -”

“I thought marriage was a big thing in the church,” Liz snorted, smirking at the page who remained leaned over.

“Yeah,” Frank added, “sanctity and all that garbage.” Kenneth looked, if it was possible, even more strained.

“To a woman .” He clarified, before standing up and straightening his jacket and breaking out into his trademark grin. “Also, the guests had to fly to the wedding, and flying’s a sin, so-” He shrugged helplessly, and turned promptly, leaving the writers to their shocked silence in his wake.

 Cerie got married on an unnamed island in the Caribbean, and Jack attends as a plus one. Liz only finds this out after barging into his office, complaining about how the news of Cerie’s Caribbean destination wedding has sent Jenna into overdrive, no longer satisfied with the idea of a surprise wedding, now she needs a surprise destination wedding, and it’s driving Liz up the wall .

“I don’t know how that’s my problem, Lemon,” Jack’s dismissive tone caused Liz to deflate from her earlier indignation, “and as well as Jenna is doing now, I doubt her wedding could come close to Miss Xerox’s- I mean, Mrs Wallace’s -in terms of spectacle, and, uh,” he turned the word over in his mind before speaking it, “ expensiveness .” The way he gazed off into the distance, tone almost reverential, caught Liz off guard.

“Wait, Jack did you go? Were you invited?” Liz scoffed, and Jack’s expression wrinkled into the closest approximation of outright discomfort that she had ever seen him wear.

“ Yes , I was there, no, I wasn’t technically invited, I was a plus one.” He admitted, amending with, “for a Victoria Secret Model, doesn’t matter which one.” He ignored Liz’s eyeroll. “It was… quite the afternoon.” There was that reverential tone again, and Liz had to suppress another eyroll. “Their ice sculpture of a swan was actually a diamond .” He wheezed, actually pressing his hand to his mouth.

“Wait, what ?” Liz spluttered, “Who did she marry?”

Cerie gets married on an unnamed island in the Caribbean, and yet she still works on TGS. The wedding band is understated, and none of the writers know who she’s married to, some of them don’t even believe it happened; she’s always said she’s going to marry rich and then design handbags, and frankly the thin, rose-gold band around her finger doesn’t exactly scream the ostentatious lifestyle that she seemed destined to.

“Jack says she’s married to Amanda Wallace, but-” Liz said, it was nine-fifteen in the morning and Cerie wasn’t scheduled to arrive until nine-thirty. Of course after her talk with Jack, Liz goes to the writers.

“Wait, just an Amanda Wallace, or the Amanda Wallace?” Frank tried to clarify, and Liz made a face at him.

“What does that mean?” She snapped, and Toofer pulled his pen from his mouth, leaning forward.

“It means ‘did she marry a woman named Amanda Wallace, or did she marry Amanda Wallace , the entrepreneur-turned-designer-slash-CEO-and-activist’?” He said, and Liz shrugged.

“Jack says he knows her, so probably that one?” And Liz’s confirmation, Toofer and Frank both leaned back in their chairs, Frank actually letting out a low whistle.

“I didn’t know she was a lesbian.” Frank said, before adding, “I knew she was a hot billionaire, but a lesbian ,” he repeated the whistle just as Cerie entered, carrying a stack of manila folders topped with a shiny magazine.

“Who?” She asked, placing the stack on her desk and slipping off her shoes.

“You’re wife.” Frank blurted out, and Cerie frowned, stilling for the moment with her hand resting on her desk, wedding band glinting in the light.

“My wife’s bisexual.” Cerie’s words shocked them into silence. After a moment, went back to the stack of folders and pulled one out, sitting behind her desk and pulling out a pencil.

“Congratulations!” Liz offered lamely.

 Cerie gets married on an unnamed island in the Caribbean, to the third richest woman in the world. Liz doesn’t get it, she never got any gay vibes from Cerie, not that her track record was the greatest with that sort of thing, if her history is anything to consider.

“I’m not a lesbian either, Liz.” Cerie cuts her off halfway through a speech that was part congratulations, part overly supportive of Cerie’s lifestyle. “I’m asexual, like you.” And she actually smiled. She’d been doing that a lot lately, had been a lot less dismissive with the writers, had actually been doing her job without being asked. Liz had been pleasantly surprised with her improvement, but Cerie’s words just now seemed to short circuit her brain. “Actually, I should thank you,” Cerie continued, smile still bright and perfect, just like the rest of her, “you helped me figure it out, and it’s made mine and Amanda’s relationship much stronger; we’re very supportive of each other.” She paused, expression dropping to concern. “Is that why your first marriage failed? You hadn’t figured yourself out?” Liz’s mouth opened and closed a few times with no sound coming out before she scrunched up her face and took a deep breath.

“I’m not married, and more importantly, I’m not- I’m- I’m straight, Cerie.” And at Liz’s pained voice, Cerie sat up, pencil still loose in her grip.

“Oh, I just assumed because of the whole, you not enjoying sex thing,” Cerie admitted, and Liz pressed her mouth into a firm line, looking off at a point past Cerie’s left ear and considering the things she said and the way she felt and- This wasn’t the time for a sexual identity crisis, though Cerie did have a point, that was a problem for Future Liz.

“I always thought you were going to marry some rich guy, quit here, and go on to design handbags.” Liz said, recalling a comment Cerie had made a few years ago that had stuck in the head writer’s mind. Cerie perked up again.

“I said I’d marry rich,” she clarified, “and Amanda is rich, but that’s not why I married her, I love her, Liz.” There was nothing but pure love and affection in Cerie’s words, and Liz sighed, she really was happy. “And I think I like working here, it makes me feel like I’m doing something with my company, and look!” She held up the page she had been working on, and Liz could see a few different thumb nail sketches of handbags that looked like they would be at home on the runway. But that’s not what Liz fixated on.

“What do you mean ‘ your company ’?”

 Cerie gets married on her wife’s private island in the Caribbean, and became Jack Donaghy’s new boss in the process.

“Does Cerie - Cerie -” Liz emphasizes her name as she bursts into Jack’s office, “own NBC?” Jack, who had a glass of scotch halfway to his lips, pauses and lowers his glass, remaining calm in the face of her confused outrage.

“Yes, Lemon, Cerie Wallace is the owner of the National Broadcasting Company.” Jack can see it’s baffling Liz to no end, how this all came to be, and she flops on the sofa in his office and takes off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“I get that Amanda would want to keep her trophy wife happy, but buying her a network? ” Liz groans, and Jack frowns.

"Trophy wife implies that Cerie doesn't give her anything," Jack said, lifting an open-palmed hand to stave off Liz's scoff-or-eyeroll-or-both, "Cerie makes her happy. I've known her a long time, I've never seen her this happy before."

"If you've known her so long, why weren't you invited to the wedding?" Liz asked, and Jack took a moment to squint at her before turning to face the window.

"We're business rivals first, Lemon, friends second." Is all he said, before admitting, "I suppose now she's my boss’s wife, so there's that too.” He paused. “It was a wedding gift."

“Then why is Cerie still my assistant?” Liz asks, sitting up straight and resting her elbows on her knees.

“Technically, she’s your boss. She’s all of our bosses.” He hums thoughtfully before shrugging. “If she’s still your assistant, it’s because she wants to be.”

Cerie gets married on her wife’s private island in the Caribbean, and none of the TGS cast or crew were invited. Kenneth didn't show up, so he doesn't count, Liz reasons. A year later, TGS airs their finale, and everyone’s invited to Cerie’s anniversary party. It’s on Amanda’s private Caribbean island, and neither she nor Cerie are mad when it turns into Jenna’s surprise destination wedding. Kenneth doesn’t attend (unsurprisingly), Liz sees Jack wearing a Hawaiian shirt and will not shut up about it, and Frank is upset to find how much he hates the ludicrously expensive caviar they have set out, but settles for shrimp. Tracy manages to catch himself on fire running away from Jenna’s gimp minister, and Cerie presses her face to her wife’s shoulder, stifling a laugh.

“It’s always a bit like this.” Cerie admits, looking up at Amanda with an almost sheepish grin. Amanda had of course met everyone before, but Liz had made sure they were all on their best behaviour, and that Tracy was kept away from all open flames.

“Okay,” Amanda says, smiling as she watches Tracy launch himself into the pool as one of the house attendants skitters out of the house with fire extinguisher in hand, “now I see why we couldn’t invite them to the wedding.”