Work Text:
What Revy knew about marriage was wedding rings left at pawn shops and cheap champagne. She knew about men bitching about their wives, their affairs concealed even less so in Roanapur where men would openly offer cash to prostitutes with their rings still on their fingers. She stole one, or rather multiple, more than once, quickly turning the metal and gems into cash.
She knew better than to imagine such a life for herself.
Much less consider it.
What she had with Balalaika was a quick fuck, most of the time, divorced of emotion or anything further. Nothing more than an exchange of power—death had already parted them.
-
What Balalaika knew about marriage was more complex.
It was a duty, a commitment, a means to an end. An ideal. A necessary engagement.
It was a wedding ring in her nightstand drawer, in the small teal, cardboard box, with a small chain should she choose to wear it as a necklace that Revy didn’t know about. A wedding dress she never bought–as if she could have afforded it. An unfinished certificate crumpled up and thrown away. A thin band Boris no longer wore, but she wondered at the whereabouts of. She didn't dare ask.
-
The stars hung high in the sky, and in the veil of darkness, a cigar sat in one manicured hand and a cigarette in one rough with work. Revy sat on the concrete of the shallow patio, glancing up at the blonde woman leaning on the siding.
“Sis?”
“Hmm?” Balalaika didn’t bother removing her cigar between her lips, looking down at Revy.
“Janet and Benny are getting hitched, apparently.”
“The two of them have been together for some time. It’s to be expected.”
“I guess. Just fucking surprised, I guess,” she cocked her head, taking another drag, “It’s all everyone back at the apartment will fucking talk about. The bitch is on my ass to be her bridesmaid or some shit.”
Balalaika contemplated quietly, temporarily focused on her cigar, “Say no, then.”
“Then everyone else will be on my ass. I’ll be dragged into this shit one way or another.”
-
The bouquet nearly smacked her in the face when she wasn’t paying attention. Her hand grabbed the petals, barely catching it in time and ruining the arrangement. “Why the fuck did you throw it–”
“It’s tradition! You’ll be the next to get married!” she smiled.
“Why? Because you threw your shitty flowers at me?”
Janet rolled her eyes, laughing. “Whoever he is, probably pretty unlucky.”
Revy glared. Lucky, my ass, he.