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The television is on in the living room, and tuned to the news. Neither of the two men on the couch is even pretending to look at anything else. They lean against each other, shoulders touching, and Tom’s fingers find the spaces between Carl’s. Annie the sheepdog whines piteously and places her head on Carl’s lap, and he scratches the dog’s ears idly, but otherwise makes no move.
“And big news for the gay community today,” the announcer says, standing in front of the State Senate building with a microphone in his hand. “The hotly debated marriage bill was approved, 33 to 29. The bill, whose fate was uncertain up until the vote just a few moments ago, will go into effect in thirty days. Four members of the…”
Tom lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding, and looks over at Carl, who is still scratching a pleased Annie’s ears. Carl turns to look at Tom.
“Finally,” Carl says, cracking a grin, and Tom laughs because he loves the way the corners of Carl’s eyes are grinning.
“They didn’t do such a bad job, with this one,” Tom says. “It could have been a lot worse. Did you see the précis?”
Carl rolls his eyes. Several of their fellow wizards had worked hard behind the scenes to make sure that no untoward influence came into the voting on this bill. It was the exact type of thing to draw the interference of the Lone Power. Tom and Carl hadn’t been working directly on it, but they had offered support where they could, and had been fanatically following the proceedings.
“So,” Tom says, his tone changing with the mood, a lump of euphoria in his throat. “Do we want to—?”
The edge of Carl’s mouth quirks upwards in a grin and Tom wants to kiss his moustache at the bends, wants to kiss the other man’s knuckles one by one, wants to press him down on the couch and trace the lines of his body for the millionth time. “Aren’t we already married?” Carl says. “I mean, technically—“
“I don’t think there’s any court on earth that will accept a Mirinel VI marriage license as legal,” Tom says, exaggeratedly casual. “No matter what we decided.”
“Point.” Carl’s shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath that presses the lines of his collarbones against his t-shirt. Tom squeezes Carl’s hand tight. “I guess the question is, do we want to make a spectacle of it?”
“You mean, do we want to have a ceremony, honeymoon, cake and all that—or do we just want to go to the courthouse and submit the paperwork?”
Carl’s hazel eyes are sparkling with joy and tears.
“We could grab one of those Crossings vacation packages,” he says. “Go off planet for a week or two—have a real vacation for once.”
Tom grins, and drags Carl close, and when their lips meet their teeth do too. Tom and Carl ease slowly into the kiss, heads tilting and mouths open and eyes slowly closing and hands pressing close and tight on shoulders and arms, and Annie sits dejected and ignored on the ground as her masters sigh into each other’s mouths.
“Will you marry me?” Tom mumbles against Carl’s lips, and Carl nods, lips curling into a smile that Tom can feel against his lips and see in Carl’s eyes.
“Only if you get me a nice ring,” Carl says, still smiling, the ultimatum a light joke at the edge of his mouth.
“Get your coat,” Tom says, “and we’ll go right now.”