Work Text:
MONDAY
“Man, can you help me with this?” Bret asks, scowling. Jemaine holds open the door of the Chinese restaurant next to their apartment as Bret struggles to fit his leftover container into the paper bag. His clumsy hands cause rips along the edges, threatening to render the paper bag useless. Jemaine obliges and takes the bag from Bret and holds it open. To his amusement, he still manages to have trouble fitting the rectangle object into the rectangle hole. He’s about to playfully tease him when a man forcefully bumps into them. Jemaine looks the guy over, completely frozen, his hands still dumbly holding their to-go bag open. He blinks up at his shiny bald head contrasting against the dark, almost opaque sunglasses. The man’s muscles almost bulge out of his simple white tank top and in his hands is a brown paper bag, scrunched at the opening where he’s gripping it.
“Which one of you is Brad?” He asks, his voice deep and intimidating.
The hairs on the nape of Jemaine’s neck stand as his friend responds. ”Uh, that’s me?” Jemaine thinks to himself how Americans always seem to have trouble saying Bret’s name correctly. “Actually, It’s Br-”
The man aggressively shoves the wrinkled paper bag into Bret’s chest before he can finish his sentence. Bret grasps it with one hand, Chinese food still precariously held in the other.
“Roy. Don’t lose this,” he says as if that’s supposed to mean something to either of them. Roy brushes past them, intentionally bumping into both their shoulders on his way out. They watch him go in shocked silence. After he turns the corner, Jemaine’s eyes slide towards the new bag held thoughtlessly against Bret’s chest.
“Well, Bret,” Jemaine tries to lean forward and peer into the mysterious bag, “What’s in there?”
Bret’s eyes slowly slip away from the direction Roy walked away and towards his new possession. He struggles to open it one-handed before Jemaine sighs and takes his to-go container and easily puts it in the bag. Bret glances inside and gasps. His eyes dart around him before grabbing Jemaine’s arm and dragging him inside.
Upon entering their flat, Bret takes three large steps to their kitchen table and empties the contents. Jemaine, slack-jawed, slowly approaches the stash. Stacks of good, green American currency sit on their tabletop. It feels unreal. Too good to be true. It must be. Jemaine lifts his eyes to meet Bret’s. They silently communicate their mutual disbelief.
“Do you think it’s real?” Bret asks.
Jemaine picks up a stack and flips through, holding it close to his face and takes a generous whiff. “Smells real,” he concludes.
“But why us?”
Jemaine straightens his back, “I’m not about to question free money, Bret.”
The phone rings and Bret steps away giving a noncommittal shrug. Jemaine takes this opportunity to undo the tape of each stack and count the variety of bills. He finds that each stack equals a hundred… There’s $500 here! He can get so much muesli with this kind of wealth! He turns excitedly to tell his friend.
“Bret!”
“Wait, how much?” Bret holds a finger up to his ear to block out Jemaine’s voice. Okay, rude.
“There’s $500 here,” Jemaine calls out.
“$25,000?” Bret brings his hand to his mouth and looks at Jemaine looking dumbfounded.
“No, 500,” Jemaine repeats. He’s grown used to Bret not paying attention to him, but this definitely rude behavior, he thinks. Bret motions Jemaine to be quiet and Jemaine scoffs in offence as he files through the money again. Bret puts the phone on speaker for both of them to hear. A woman’s voice on the line says, “Yes, your great-great-great grandmother, three times removed, has left specifically you, Bret McKinley, $25,000. The only catch is that in order to receive this money, you will have to get married within five days of this phone call. If you don’t, you receive none of it. What do you say, do you accept?”
Bret looks at Jemaine, uncertain. Jemaine was already sold by ‘$25,000’ and is frantically whispering “Yes! Say yes!” When Bret remains silent, Jemaine brings the phone closer to his mouth and confirms himself with his Bret impression, which coincidentally sounds no different that his usual voice. “Yes, we- I accept.”
“Jemaine!” Bret whisper shouts.
“Great! I’m looking forwards to your wedding. Have a good evening, Bret.” The phone clicks. Jemaine grabs Bret’s shoulders in excitement, “We’re going to be millionaires, Bret!”
Bret puts his hands on Jemaine’s arms to calm him. “It’s $25,000,” he drops his hands to his side as if this is bad news, “and it’s if I get married in five days…” He steps away from his friend and falls face-first onto the couch. Jemaine feels the anxiety and insecurity radiating off Bret.
“I’m sure you can find someone,” Jemaine helplessly says. $25,000… they could get a new apartment. Maybe one with proper heating and a landlord that doesn’t show up unannounced and watch them in their sleep.
“How?” Bret’s voice is muffled by the cushions, “I haven’t had a girlfriend in ages. None of them would’ve married me anyway. They all get bored of me after a few weeks.” Jemaine huffs. He can’t afford to let his friend’s self-esteem ruin their chances at wealth.
“We’re in New York City, the people are freaks here. I’m sure there’s someone out there willing to marry a… handsome guy like you in five days.”
Bret turns his body towards Jemaine, eyes slightly glossy. “You think I’m handsome?”
Jemaine hesitates and turns his suddenly warm face away, “Hmm… yes.” So embarrassing to say aloud. He wishes that Bret would believe him the first time he says these kinds of things so he didn’t have to repeat it.
Bret smiles, “Thanks man. I still don’t want to do it though.”
Jemaine rolls his eyes and groans, “Why not!”
“Because! I don’t want to marry some freak on the streets!”
Jemaine feels frustration bubble up. Bret is being so selfish for not doing this for them, especially after dragging that compliment out of him. He thinks how if it were him, he’d do it in a heartbeat! Honestly, the easiest thing would probably be to marry- he shakes the thought away. The main takeaway here is Bret is about to throw away free money.
“Okay! No freaks!” Jemaine promises, “Let’s just go out to a bar tonight and try to find someone who’s nice and not a freak at all.”
Bret deflates and looks like he’s about to refuse. Jemaine jumps to remind him, “$25,000 Bret."
“Alright, fine.”
Bret and Jemaine sit next to each other in a small booth at a bar, scoping out the scene. Between the two of them is a large tray of American cheesy fries, all funded by the weird Roy fellow. Their waiter is similarly tall and muscular but his name tag reads 'Ned'. He stops by and shifts his eyes between the two of them before handing them two milkshakes. Bret pops one chip after another as Jemaine surveys the dining room. His concentration keeps getting interrupted by Bret in his peripheral vision, who is noisily licking cheese off his fingers. Jemaine clears his throat.
"How about her over there?"
Bret turns his head toward the bar where a short-haired brunette woman sits alone, sipping on a margarita. He nods and looks back at Jemaine, straightening his shirt.
"How do I look?" He asks, fiddling with the curls around his ears. Jemaine looks over his mate. Hair: fluffy. That's good. Eyes: big. Brown. Good. Beard…
"You've got a…" Jemaine points to the edge of his own mouth. Bret tries to mirror him and swipes his hand on the wrong side of his mouth.
"No, no. The other…"
"Oh!"
Bret is on the correct side of his face but is still somehow completely missing the glob of cheese on the edge of his lip. After multiple missed attempts, Bret dares to ask Jemaine, "Did I get it?"
JemIne scoffs and takes Bret's chin in his hand. He stops himselfnshort of housing his thumb and instead grabs a napkin off the table and uses that to gently wipe the offending cheese. The two linger in each other's space a moment too long. Jemaine remembers himself and bats Bret away.
"What am I doing this for, go! Go! Get out of here!"
Bret promptly scurries from the booth and nervously stops behind the woman. He anxiously looks back at Jemaine, who reassures him with a smile and a thumbs up. Jemaine watches the two interact as he snacks on the chips. He wishes he could understand facial expressions a little better so he'd know if things were going well or not. He leans closer, squinting his eyes, thinking that maybe if he sees them more clearly, he'll get a better read. The two of them at once turn their heads towards him and catches Jemaime off guard. The woman raises her brows and smiles politely while Bret beams and waves at him. Jemaine meekly waves back but it's too late. He's already embarrassed having been caught spying. He tries to shrug it off by grabbing a chip and looking in the other direction. He waits two or three seconds before looking again only to find Bret already sliding back into their booth and the woman halfway out the door.
"What happened?"
Bret rambles on thoughtlessly, "Oh, I just walked up to her and went 'Hey, wanna marry me?' And she was like 'Huh?' And I said 'I need to get married, want to be my wife?' And she said 'why don't you ask your date instead of harassing me?' And then I said 'Huh?' And then she pointed at you and I went, 'that's just my mate' and… well anyway, that was a bust." Bret punctuates his story with a handful of chips, fingers messy with cheese. Jemaine can't find the words he's looking for as he watches Bret clean off his fingers with his tongue.
"Aw, sorry man," Jemaine finally manages to say. And he means it. He's sorry they're still this much further from unforseen riches. But it's tough to deny that a part of him is a bit relieved that it didn't work out. He locks that bit of his subconscious away.
"Nah. It's fine. I didn't really want to marry her anyway," Bret says nonchalantly. He must have noticed something in Jemaine's expression. He pushes the chips closer to him and offers, "Here, help me finish these and we can try again tomorrow."
TUESDAY
"Band meeting! Jemaine?"
"Present."
"Bret?"
"Yup."
"And… Murray. Present."
Jemaine watches Murray scribble into his notepad. Giving into his curiosity, he leans forward a bit to see what he has written down. He finds 'Murray's Item List' as he'd expect, but it is embellished with doodles of vines, waves, and fish. He tries to peek into what's on the agenda but has a hard time reading upside down.
"A $25,000 inheritance if you get married?!"
"Yes. But I don't know if I can do it," Bret says dejectedly as Jemaine shakes his head.
"What? Why not?" Murray asks the million dollar question.
"We tried going to a bar last night to find a woman but it didn't work out," Jemaine interjects.
Murray hums sympathetically, "So the old fashioned way is a no-go. We could hold a fan contest and the winner can be your bride! Eh? Eh?" He gestures widely, smiling to a his grimacing audience.
"Ew, no," Jemaine immediately protests. "Our only fan is Mel and he isn't marrying Mel." Jemaine shutters at the thought of Bret getting married to her. He doesn't want to even think about what Mel would do with an all access pass to their home. It's already bad enough having her outside their apartment every day. Murray deflates and drums his fingers on his desk. He perks up as an idea hits him.
"You could try online dating! All the hip cats are doing it. Right Jemaine?"
Before he can get a word in, Bret cuts in with his arms crossed, "No. No way. I've seen Jemaine get heartbroken over people he's met online that turn out to be nothing like their profiles. And then instead of his date cuddling and petting his head, it ends up being me."
"Hey!" Jemaine says indignantly. Why'd they have to drag him into this? Yes, he gets a ton of both men and women alike through the internet. But his online dating mishaps aren't something he's particularly proud of. His most recent incident happened about a week ago when he thought he was meeting up with a cute girl who promised him a good time in the chat rooms. He waited at their spot until the sun went down before he hung his head low and went back home. That night, his head rested on Bret's lap as he combed through his hair, telling him how dumb Lisababy985 is for standing him up.
"Aw c'mon, Bret! It's not Jemaine's fault that he's easily tricked," Murray takes him out of his thoughts. Jemaine sits with his mouth dropped in disbelief. "Duped…" Murray continues. He glances at his notepad and points at something written down. "...Bass-fished."
"What was that last one?" Jemaine is too thrown off to be offended anymore.
"I think you mean catfished," Bret supplies. Murray shakes his head.
"Nope. Because he plays the bass guitar. It was a play on words. It's clever."
"Is it?" Bret asks condescendingly at the same time Jemaine questions, "You had that written down?" He tries to get another look at the notepad but he still can't read upside down.
"Anyway, Bret. I've seen advertisements on the television of people saying how they met online and have been happily married, eh? That could be you too!"
Bret groans loudly, "Fine. If it gets you guys to stop hassling me about it."
Murray claps his hands in celebration. "Ey! That's what I like to hear!"
He looks down at his notes again, the turn of events not prepared in his agenda. He scratches his beard in thought. "We should get a head start on arrangements if we only have four days. I'll get a venue. You'll need to find wedding bands."
"Oh, that's easy," Bret says, nodding. "Our band can just play."
"We've never played at a wedding before, can we still be a wedding band?" Jemaine asks in earnest.
"No, no! Wedding bands like wedding rings," Murray corrects. He ignores the small chorus of 'oh's and continues, "And you two need to get. Hold of suits to wear. Do you have any?"
Jemaine hums. "My last suit is covered in holes from when the flat had that mice infestation." The mice were cute but the two had made the honest mistake of trying to keep as many as they could. It was fine when it was only two, but day after day they just kept multiplying. They'd chew through their clothes, furniture, and walls. The damage had set them back for months financially.
"Yeah, and mine got covered in honey," Bret answers.
"Honey? The whole thing?" Murray blinks.
"Yeah. Just drenched," Bret says simply. Noticing Murray's confused look, he continues. "It was to impress a girl! You were there Jemaine, remember? She freaked out and left after we told her we followed her home and went through her trash."
"Ahh, yes. Fish girl. I remember," Jemaine nods, looking at Murray expectantly. He sits in silence for a second before telling them, "Alright. Buy new suits, please." He scribbles in his notes then leans forward and lowers his voice, "And could I get a cut out of that 25k?"
Bret stares at him through his eyebrows, "No."
"But I'm doing all this organizing. And I the best venue in mind already! I should get a cut!"
Bret tilts his head, "Okay, a small cut."
"Emphasis on small," Jemaine adds for good measure.
Murray grins and reaches for his phone. "I won't let you down," he says cooly while punching in numbers. "Yes, hello? I'd like to book a wedding!" he waggles his brows towards the boys. "A marriage license? Erm… no," he grimaces. "How long will that take? Ah, I see."
Murray wages his hands in dismissal and courtesy the speaker of the phone to whisper, "This one might take a while. You guys go find Bret a wife."
WEDNESDAY
In their living room, an empty laptop box lays unraveled on the floor Jemaine has the new equipment settled on his lap with Bret leaning over the back of the couch to view the screen. They're still trying to stretch out the initial $500 as far as they can. A decent chunk had already been blown on food and he wouldn't say they're not guilty of going a tad overboard in treating themselves. That said, having their own personal computer was an exciting luxury to own.
Jemaine has the internet browser open to a website titled 'NYC Kiwi Mingle'. The days continue counting down and the hunt for a spouse is still on. The 'two' (just Jemaine) have been filling out a profile to someone worth Bret's love. This challenge has been keeping Jemaine up at night. Or maybe it's his broken bed that's been doing him in. A few weeks ago he and Bret had a heated competition on who could do the best mid-air rock star pose. Jemaine has had a persistent kink in his back since then. A new bed would be nice, Jemaine thinks to himself.
Bret McKinley
, 33 China Town
New Zealander. Flight of the Conchords Mom Guitarist. Trying to get married for money, please reach out if interested! :^3
"Okay…" Jemaine silently reads back Bret's profile. "This should do the trick." He turns to look at Bret, who is staring off into space. "Thanks for the help filling this out by the way." He raises a brow at Bret, who glances at him puzzled.
"What? Oh. I didn't really do anything. I just watched you do everything."
Jemaine purposely avoids eye contact, "Mhm!" He places the laptop on the table. "It usually takes a little bit before anyone responds. What should we do in the meantime?"
Bret and jemaine walk along the streets trying to figure out how to get their hands on rings.
"How much money do you have on you right now?"
Bret digs until his wallet. "About $10." Damn. "I left the rest at home."
"I think wedding rings are going to cost more than $10," Jemaine worries.
Bret considers this, "D'ya reckon we could do something like Breakfast at Tiffany's?"
"But they didn't even get a ring from Tiffany's in that movie."
"Aw, right." Bret looks around the area and spots a small arcade and coos. He heads towards the entrance with Jemaine hot on his heels.
"Bret, this isn't part of Murray's instructions," Jemaine lightly chides, although he's sure Bret isn't even listening to him. His attention is focused on the prizes on display. He points through the glass to the first shelf.
"Look! The mood rings are only 100 tickets each. We can get those easily." He places a single $10 bill on the counter. A jacked employee wearing a red and white cap and a striped collared shirt takes the bill and preps their tokens. Jemaine squints at the man. There's something oddly familiar about him. He doesn't get a chance to think too hard about it because the two are soon handed a small cup of tokens and Bret scurries off to find something to play.
Bret points to a machine in childlike wonder. A tall, red machine with an LED display quickly counts up to '900' and begins flashing. "BOXER" in flaming letters are written across the top.
Bret helps himself to the first round and inserts two tokens. A small punching bag lowers and a bell chimes. Bret winds up his fist and uses his whole body to throw a punch his first just brushes against the bag andnthe game doesn't respond. Jemaine doubles over in laughter.
"You need to hit the bag, Bret."
"I know, I know. I was just warming up." Bret rolls his shoulders before pulling his fist back for another punch. This time he hits the target with just enough force to lock the bag back into the machine. The numbers on the screen begin to calculate his strength.
"24?" Bret reads in disbelief. "Does it mean 124, maybe?" He looks to Jemaine for reassurance.
"No, I think it means you have a weak punch."
Bret scowls and pushes the cup of tokens into Jemaines chest. "You give it a try," he pouts playfully.
Jemaine raises a brow and shrugs. "Okay, but I carry around my bass everywhere and it's way heavier and bigger than your regular guitar." Bret rolls hisneyes and crosses his arms, watching. The bag lowers and Jemaine shakes out his right arm and gives his hardest punch. His efforts earn a hardy thump and the screen starts counting until it lands on '096'.
Jemaine points a finger at Bret, "HAH!"
"Okay, that just means mine was a fluke. Gimme that." He inserts two more tokens. This competition continues for what feels like an indefinite amount of time. Jemaine was able to achieve their highest score of 132 whereas Bret continued to fall just behind, reaching 115 at his best. It isn't until they're down to their last four tokens that something occurs to Jemaine. He anxiously looks around the machine.
"Wait!" He stops Bret from starting another round.
"What, scared I'll beat you this time?" Bret smirks.
"First off, no, because you can't. And second… have we been getting tickets from this game?"
Bret's face immediately falls. He does the same dance, looking for something that isn't there. He regards the amount of tokens they have left.
"Flub… but… we've been at this for ages!"
"It's okay… we just need to find the game that'll give us the most for our money," Jemaine redirects.
The two walk a lap around the arcade and find a two player game of whack-a-mole. They watch the couple before them earn a modest pile of tickets. The game itself looks a bit intense, too. To cater to two people at once, the machine is twice the length. There are two colored animals that pop up and if the wrong color gets whacked, points are deducted from the overall score.
When it's their turn, Jemaine maintains laser focus and relies on pure instinct to hit everything that pops into his peripheral vision, careful to avoid the bait pieces. The two work in perfect harmony. By the end of the timer, they've managed to make the high score board. Tickets pool at their feet and the two share a celebratory hug, jumping up and down all the while. They haphazardly gather their tickets and go straight to the prize counter.
"250 tickets," the unenthusiastic employee announces. Bret crouches down to where the mood rings are displayed. "Two rings, please."
The employee pulls out two rings and puts them on the counter for Bret to take.
"50 tickets left."
"Oh," Bret searches the top shelf of the glass counter for the cheapest prizes. "Two of those then," he gestures to a box of temporary tattoos.
The two sit together on their couch as Jemaine helps Bret apply his tattoo. He presses a cold, wet paper towel against Bret's bicep. The cool water drips along his arm as he counts the seconds down. Carefully, he removes the paper backing to reveal a colorful spaceman on Bret's arm. Bret looks at it with the goofiest smile.
"Okay, lemme do yours now," he says, turning to fully face Jemaine. He holds out his inner wrist and Bret tenderly keeps it steady with his own hands. He presses the same wet paper towel against it while Jemaine admires Bret's concentrated face. His tongue just pokes out of his mouth and without much thought, Jemaine uses his free hand to poke at it. Bret jerks his face away and yelps as Jemaine giggles.
"C'mon man, your tattoo is gonna come out all messed up and it can't blame me," Bret whines. Jemaine promises to behave as Bret resumes the application process.
Jemaine thinks about how close they're sitting. Their thighs press against each other from the slouch of the couch. It wasn't planned but Jemaine's not going to complain about being close to his best friend.
Soon, Bret removes the paper and reveals a smiling star, singing Bowie beneath his breath, "There's a starrrrrr maaaan…" Jemaine smiles down at his new ink as Bret stands to clean their mess, still humming the melody of Starman.
A chime sounds from the laptop, forgotten on the coffee table.
2 Unread Messages from Bailey G.
"Bret!" Jemaine calls, "You got a match!"
Bret quickly runs behind the couch and leans over Jemaine's shoulder to watch him frantically swipe his finger across the track pad to open the message. A bit all too suddenly, they're faced with a man taking a bathroom selfie, completely nude and erect. 'I ain't gonna marry u but how bout u put a ring on dis dick and change my mind?' The message reads.
The two yelp in dismay, the laptop nearly topples off of Jemaine's lap. He shields his face with both his hands whereas Bret aggressively leans forward to shut the computer in complete disgust.
"This isn't going to work, Jemaine!" Bret snaps, walking away. Jemaine puts the laptop aside and follows.
"Aw, c'mon Bret! That happens sometimes, it's-"
"No."
Jemaine falters but he knows he can get through to him somehow. "That was just the first person, there's prob-"
"No!"
Shoot.
He runs up and holds Bret by the shoulders to shake some sense into him. "Bret! We're broke!" Bret rolls his eyes. "How are we going to get the money if you won't marry anyone?"
Bret throws his hands in the air, pushing Jemaine's hands off him. "I'm not marrying a stranger! I refuse!" He stomps away. Jemaine is losing him. He's grasping at straws that aren't there at this point.
"But-" Jemaine chases after him, desperate to reach him.
"Okay, fine!" Bret stops and turns on his heels to face Jemaine again, who just stops short of running into him. "If you want the money so bad, then you marry me." He places his hands on his hips defensively and scowls.
"I- huh?" Jemaine is hit with a bout of whiplash. So many thoughts flood his mind at once. Bret has lost it! Or well… this was the idea he had thought of earlier that week. But he hasn't even allowed himself to entertain it. It was outlandish! But maybe he should've actually delved deeper into that thought so he wouldn't feel as stunned as he is now. That thumping sound he hears in his ears… is that his heartbeat? Across from him, Bret exhales and drops his hands to his side.
He looks everywhere but at Jemaine's face when he quietly continues, "I'd… rather it be you than a rando on the streets or some dick on the internet."
Bret fiddles with his sleeve and continues to ramble on but Jemaine struggles to make out the words. All he can focus on is the persistent pulsing and trying to control the overwhelming wave of emotion that threatens to flood his eyes.
"Besides, you're already my best friend and roommate so it wouldn't really change anything between us if that's something you're afraid of," he hears Bret say through his own heavy breaths. His mind supplies that he's been silent for longer than what's appropriate when talking to someone.
"No, yeah," he manages to get out. Nice save. Be chill.
"Yeah?" Bret repeats back to him, eyes slightly glossy.
"Yeah, no. This is good. Plus we won't have an extra person moving in with us or anything like that."
"Yeah, it'd be too much," Bret agrees.
Jemaine takes a step closer, toe-to-toe with Bret. "Yeah. I'll marry you."
The way Bret's face lights up makes Jemaine wish he could preserve it forever. He smiles so big that Jemaine can't help but to join him, a small tear drop escaping his eye as he does. Bret closes the space between them and wraps Jemaine in a tight hug, fingers grasping onto his hair. Bret sighs contentedly and Jemaine has a great appreciation for the fact that he won't have to compete with anyone for this kind of attention.
That night, the two lay in their separate beds. Bret is sleeping soundly, gently snoring. Jemaine has been laying awake, trying to get comfortable for an hour. It's been like this for weeks. He puts on his glasses and eyes Bret.
"Bret!" He whispers-yells. Bret rolls to face the wall. He dramatically inhales and goes "mimimimimimi".
"Wake up, Bret."
hoooonnnkk…..mimimimimi….. "I'm sleeping…" mimimimimi
Jemaine clicks his tongue. He wraps his blanket around his shoulders and waddles over to Bret's side of the room. Bret lay silently in pretend slumber, head buried into his pillow. He climbs over his body and fits himself between Bret and the window.
"Wuh-" Bret mumbles.
Jemaine hushes him. "I thought you were asleep."
"I am," he says turning his head toward Jemaine, eyes still closed.
"Well, Sleeping Bret. My bed's been broken since you-"
Bret interjects, eyes still closed, "Wasn't me."
"- jumped on it too hard and broke it."
"Nope, not right."
"And married people usually share a bed, so I'm just gonna use yours until we buy a new one for me." Jemaine makes himself comfortable and places his glasses on the windowsill beside him.
Bret finally blinks his eyes and squints at Jemaine. He looks thoughtfully before he groans.
"Alright, fine."
He nuzzles his face back into his pillow, body facing Jemaine. Jemaine contentedly lays on his side, looking at Bret and allows the warmth of his body to llull him to sleep.
Just on the precipice of unconsciousness, he feels a whisper of Bret's hand touching his own. Just the side of his pinky lightly brushing against the back of his hand. Curiously, he rotates his hand to be palm up and nudges it a hair closer. Jemaine holds his breath, almost in fear of scaring the hand away. In a few weighted seconds, Bret slides his hand right onto his and the two instinctively hold onto each other like otters afraid of floating apart. Jemaine sighs contentedly. This isn't the first time they've ever had to share a bed, but it isn't a habit they allow themselves often. When it does happen, Jemaine finds he sleeps better than when he's in his own bed. And tonight ends up no different. It's the best sleep he's had in weeks.
THURSDAY
The two are back in Murray's office to update him on the current state of events.
"...and Murray, present," Murray places his pen next to his notepad. "Bret! You found a wife?"
"No, but I found a Jemaine." He points towards him. "We figured it'd be easiest to just marry each other." Jemaine nods.
Murray leans back in his chair dramatically, "Marry each other? Is that legal?"
Bret shrugs, "Iunno."
Murray purses his lips in consideration. "Eh, it's probably fine. Sure. Good thinking boys! My little geniuses," he coos. Jemaine blushes at the praise and turns away, waving his hand in modest denial. Murray opens a folder sitting on his desk and passes it out to the two. "You both need to fill out these papers for your marriage license, then." Jemaine and Bret scoot their chairs closer to Murray's desk to do the paperwork.
"Next on the agenda," Murray says, reading his notepad, "I've got the venue set up for two days from now. I'll take care of these," he collects the paperwork, "So have everything done by then."
Jemaine watches Murray shuffle papers on his desk thoughtfully. "What venue were you able to get in less than a week?" Bret asks.
"Wouldn't the venue just be in the courthouse or something?" Jemaine adds. He's seen enough movies to figure last minute weddings typically happen in a courthouse.
"No!" He says indignantly. The two look at him skeptically. Murray keeps his eyes on his desk to ignore their stares.
"After you get the money," he continues, "you're probably going to want to annul the marriage. I'll get the paperwork for that ready as well," Murray says aloud while jotting down notes. Jemaine sits up straight and turns to Bret. With anyone else, facial expressions tend to elude him. But he's spent nearly a decade by Bret's side and has been able to figure out how to accurately read him. The look Bret is giving him now… his eyes wide and brows raised is nothing short of a sign that Bret In Need of a Hug. Jemaine takes note to do that later. Not exactly knowing the reason why, Jemaine thinks he might want one too.
"Annul?" Bret speaks up, looking now at Murray, "Like cancel the marriage?"
"Yeah. It'll be like nothing ever changed."
After the meeting, Bret and Jemaine head towards a secondhand store with the last dregs of their money and a dream. As they walk side by side, Jemaine satiates his urges and holds onto one of Bret's bicep. Bret reacts by quickly looking down and his hand then moves wordlessly to loop their arms together, walking with their sides pressed against each other.
At the store, the two peruse the suit aisles, not exactly sure what they're looking for. Jemaine pulls out a modest grey suit to examine it further. The armpits of this one have obnoxiously dark sweat stains. "Ew," he mutters to himself, putting back in the rack.
"Ohoho look at this one! Sick!" Bret holds up what Jemaine thinks to be one of the most obnoxious things he's ever seen. It's a blue suit covered in red polka dots. But it's captures Bret's personality so perfectly. Jemaine smiles genuinely and tells him, "It's perfect."
Bret admires it in his hands. "I can't believe someone just gave this away."
"Me neither."
"And it's only $20!!"
Bret grins and drapes the suit over his arm, muttering how 'David Bowie would love this' and heads toward the fitting room as Jemaine continues to browse, opting for something that looks a little more tame.
Once he's found a set that fits the criteria of 'unripped, unstained, matches, and fits', the two regroup at the register. Behind the counter stands yet another man built like a tank. He glances to the collar of his shirt where a name tag reads 'Gary'. Just another firmly stacked man who happens to work at a Goodwill, he supposes. He’s never realized how many people in New York seem to share this specific body type. Gary glares at the two beneath his brow bone as he scans their items.
"Your total is $45," he says tersely.
Jemaine reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic baggy of his cash. He fishes out two twenties and a five and hands it over. Gary picks up the twenty and holds it up to the light to inspect it. His eyebrow raises and he hums before putting it in the register, looking between Jemaine and Bret the entire time. He closes the register and bags the items. They all stare silently at each other for a second too long.
"Okay…" Jemaine says uncomfortably, "Thanks." The two awkwardly grab their bags and shuffle out of the store.
FRIDAY
Murray picks them up bright and early, wearing the same tan suit he wears every other day. The two climb into his backseat. Jemaine looks down at his own suit, a textured dark grey blazer that gives him the good kind of tingly when he runs his hands across it, a black bow tie on a white button down, and black pants to match. Murray turns around in his seat staring at Bret. Bret completed his suit with blue and white polka dots button down that's just as busy. Bret is adjusting the cuffs of his sleeve when he notices Murray looking at him.
"What are you wearing?!" Murray exclaims.
"A suit. You like it?" Bret poses so Murray can get a better look at the pattern, as if he had any difficulty doing so in the first place.
"I like it," Jemaine says. "You look very handsome in it."
Bret looks at him and beams, "Aw, thanks. You look good in yours too. Especially the bow tie."
Jemaine smiles and adjusts his bow tie subconsciously. Murray sighs, "Yes. You both look very handsome. You guys all ready to go? You excited?" The two nod happily. What's not to be excited about? Practically free money and they're basically declaring themselves legally Best Friends Forever. "Alright, let's hit the road!" Murray says, putting the car into drive.
Murray parks the car along the street and leads the way as Bret and Jemaine follow behind like little ducklings. They walk up the steps of a large concrete building with towering columns. Murray holds open the arched doorway into the building. The two look around the entrance in awe. The tiling on the floor creates an impressive mosaic pattern and large crystal chandeliers hang from the rooftops. They continue following Murray down through a door and they are suddenly walking through a hallway lit by fluorescent overhead lights. The walls are off white with scuff marks along the bottom and the beautiful tiles have become the blue laminated tiles he's seen in high schools. Murray opens a door with a sign reading "New York City Marriage Bureau''.
"Murray," Jemaine says, apprehensive, "Are we in a courthouse?"
Murray chuckles before sharply inhaling through his teeth. "Yes" he replies, attempting to sound as if this was the plan all along but knowing this isn't exactly what he promised. The three walk up to a woman sitting at a desk. She smiles up at them and asks, “How can I help you?”
Murray places his hands flat on the desk. “Hello! We’re here for a wedding! We have it scheduled for 11am.”
The woman taps at her keyboard, “Ah yes. It looks like we’re running a little behind, we had a few walk-ins before you. I’ll check you in and you guys are free to sit in the waiting area until we call your name.”
“There’s a wait?” Murray asks dejectedly. The three of them turn to the left and see a half filled waiting room.
“Yes, unfortunately,” the woman says sympathetically. "I can take the paperwork now, though.”
Murray turns behind him to talk to Bret and Jemaine. He half-whispers, “Why don’t you guys find seats for us?”
The two sigh in resignation and find a line of three seats for them to sit and wait at. Jemaine anxiously taps his hands on his thighs while looking all around the room to keep his mind busy. There’s a tv hung on the wall playing infomercials on mute, the captions coming on screen with a delay. There are several wedding magazines available to flip through on the end tables and the main magazine rack.
"By the way," they can hear Murray ask, even in his hushed tone, "How do I set up an annulment? Could we do it right after the ceremony?"
"Umm… that's a bit unusual," the clerk starts to answer before Jemaine is distracted by the door opening behind Murray. To his dismay, Mel and Doug walk in. Despite their attempts to hide by sinking lower in their chairs and bringing their magazines up to cover their faces, they still hear the two coming directly towards them.
"Heyyyy guys! Congratulations!" Mel sings.
"Mel! Doug!" Jemaine says in what he hopes comes off as a polite tone. In reality, he is fighting his natural instinct to scowl in her direction. "How'd you know we would be here?"
"We won the contest, silly!" Mel says, reaching over to boop his nose. Jemaine swats her hand away before she can touch him. His mask is already slipping.
"Con…test…?" Bret says, now looking at Murray, who has taken a seat next to him.
Murray smiles guiltily, "Yes. I, uh. Found out you'll need witnesses for the ceremony. I know-"
"We told you not to-" Jemaine whisper-scolds as Murray keeps talking. "-not to do a contest." Murray waves a dismissive hand.
"Yes, because Mel…" Jemaine continues.
"Mel is the only fan," Murray speaks over him. "I know, Jemaine! I just thought it'd bring in some interest to the band! Sue me!"
Mel comes into view from where she's sitting to chime in, "Oh, I was interested alright. Picture!" She holds up a digital camera and a flash goes off, catching Bret and Jemaine off guard. She looks back at the display on her camera happily and continues to snap photos of everyone tolerating her. Doesn't matter to Mel, though. She's just excited to be there. Invited or not. Jemaine sits back in his chair with his arms crossed, definitely not pouting.
"Clemaine and McKinley party?"
"Present," Murray says, raising his hand and sitting up. The rest of them follow suit to follow the worker down the corridor and into a small white room. At the far end of the room is a white curtain draped to frame the couple when standing in front. White foldable chairs are lined in rows. Murray, Mel and Doug help themselves to the front row.
Their appointed judge walks in wearing a black robe and regards them kindly.
"Bret?"
"Yes, that's me."
"Congratulations. We spoke on the phone earlier. I'm the one who's taking care of your great great great great grandmother's will as well!"
"Oh! That's good."
"Can we see the money?" Jemaine asks.
"Jemaine-!" Murray whispers.
"Ah, you're Jemaine. You're the one to wed Bret, here?"
Jemaine nods. She reaches under the pedestal and lifts up a suitcase. Resting it on the flat surface, she lifts open the lid. Watching it open felt as if a golden light showed from inside as Jemaine eyes the most green he's ever seen. What feels like too soon, the case is clamped back shut. "You'll receive this after the ceremony. Rings, please?"
"Oh, yeah." Bret rummages through his pocket and pulls out the two mood rings. He places them into the judge's open palm. She furrows her brows and turns them in her hand, put off by the cheap plastic. She shrugs it off with grace and begins her speech.
To be completely honest, Jemaine completely tuned it out. His hands are joined with Bret's between them. There's nothing to look at but each other. In the background he can hear Mel's camera click every few seconds, but even then, at this moment it felt like Bret was his entire world. And he supposes, it has been that way ever since they've become friends over a decade ago. He looks into Bret's brown eyes and the lines starting to form at its edges. Those weren't there when they had first met. Jemaine feels warm inside thinking about how nice it would be to get wrinkly and grey with Bret by his side.
"Bret," Jemaine's attention is snapped back into focus. Bret's right hand has left his and is holding the mood ring they won together.
"Place this ring on Jemaine's hand and repeat after me," the judge says. "With this ring, I thee wed."
"With this ring, I thee wed," Bret repeats obediently. He slides the ring onto Jemaine's ring finger and smiles shyly up at him. Jemaine is handed the other mood ring.
"Jemaine, place this ring on Bret's finger and repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed."
"With this ring, I thee wed."
"Let these rings be given and received as a token of your affection, sincerity, and love.
In as much as Bret and Jemaine have consented together in wedlock and have witnessed the same before this company and pledged their vows to each other, by the authority vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss your spouse."
A flurry of camera flashes from Mel. Jemaine finds himself hesitant, forgetting that this was going to be part of the ceremony. He'd never kissed Bret before. He's kissed other women, so it has to be similar, right? Bret seems to be having the same big thoughts. Jemaine takes a deep breath and purses his lips and slowly moves to meet his best friend in the middle. Bret catches on and follows suit. For a brief half a second, their lips gently brush against each other before they're pulling away, opening their eyes again. Hm. Not bad, actually. He doesn't know what exactly he was expecting, maybe the world falling apart from something that had felt so forbidden? But in reality, nothing has changed. He's still Jemaine and that's still Bret, holding his hands. They turn towards their small audience and Mel is on her feet capturing every angle she can manage while cheering them on.
"Congratulations," their judge says. "The money is yours." She hands the suitcase to Bret before politely saying her goodbyes to the party and leaving the room. The door closes behind her and the pair excitedly regards the suitcase. They don't notice the man Jemaine keeps seeing around town come into the room. He strides halfway across the room towards the two standing together.
"Brad, I told you not to lose my money," his strong New York accent shines through as he gets into Bret's face. "And you went ahead and spent it all, huh."
"I… um… sorry," is all Bret can stammer out.
The stranger snaps the case out of Bret's grasp.
"This is mine now, thank you," he practically spits in his face before turning away. Hot rage boils over in Jemaine's gut and he acts without thinking. He reaches forward to give the man a good shove.
"Hey, now, you can't do that to my hus-" His threat is cut short when the man, with his free hand effortlessly blocks his attack and retaliates with a scathing slap across his cheek, punctuated with a punch into his stomach. The wind is knocked out of him and he crumbles to the ground with an elongated snort. His glasses lands across the room.
"Jemaine!"
He sees spots in his already blurred vision. He feels Bret at his side, his comforting hands steady on his shoulders. He's fighting for breath.
"Jemaine, you're alright. You're okay," Murray's muffled voice assures.
Very distantly he hears more commotion going on in the room. Various thumps and screams. But when he tries to lift his head, his vision is only filled with Bret with his bright-ass suit facing him and a brown Murray-shaped blob trying to shield the two from the commotion with his arms extended protectively. Jemaine tries to say aloud 'I need my glasses' but the best he can muster is a strangled hmmggg while pointing at his eyes. Thankfully, Bret knows his mind and steps away briefly to look for them.
Jemaine squints at the dancing colors in front of him. One might be Mel shaped, the other is definitely Roy shaped. Bret quickly rejoins Jemaine's side and he puts his glasses back on. Almost a bit too clearly, he sees Mel, her hair a complete mess, throw a solid punch into the side of Roy's face. As he's recovering she slips a foot beneath his feet and sends him toppling over. The suitcase has been abandoned to the side and Mel takes this advantage and jump-slides towards it. She quickly unlatches it and grabs money by the handful. Roy's bulkier form seems to tank many hits but is slow to recover. In a second he's back on his feet and in one step he's at Mel's side. He reaches down and grabs the cloth on the back of her dress and easily lifts her up, like a man holding a kitten by its scruff. He tosses her aside and quickly picks up the suitcase.
"You're fucking crazy," He says, running out the door.
Out of breath, Mel looks back at the rest of the room. Doug is immediately at her side with a bottle of water, looking over her scrapes and bruises. She takes heavy labored breaths and looks across the room to where Bret, Jemaine and Murray were hiding.
"Sorry I couldn't save the briefcase, guys," Mel says dejectedly.
"Don't worry Mel, thank you for trying. It was insane to watch," Bret replies.
Mel reaches between her bosoms. Oh my god, Jemaime heaves through his thoughts, we're not that grateful. he watches her pull out two wads of cash and throws it their way. Murray catches it and turns it over in his hands.
"It's all I could get."
The three look stunned between Mel and the money. Doug is calmly tending to Mel's hair, trying to tame the messy curls. Murray flips through the bills, calculating.
"This is incredible!" Murray says. "Thank you. Mel. We owe you."
She waves her hand, "No need. Consider it a wedding present. I'm just so happy my favorite band is gonna be together forever."
She looks at them with stars in her eyes. Doug helps Mel to her feet and she dusts off the skirt of her dress. Doug offers an elbow and Mel loops her arm through and waves goodbye.
"Congratulations," Doug says as they exit the room. The three stand in dumbfounded silence as the door shuts behind them. Jemaine can't help but wonder…
"How much did she save?"
"1,000."
Bret reaches over and takes the stack from Murray. He pulls a $20 off the top and slaps it in his hands.
"Your cut," Bret says. He leads them out of the room. Murray smiles gratefully.
"Aw yeah, thanks!" He pockets the money and stands between his two boys, arms extended and ushers them toward the door. "Let me take you home now."
5 Days Later…
The day is young and outside the Conchord flat lay a pile of discarded materials and two old mattresses. The windows are open and inside finds the two men in their bedless bedroom with wood planks, cardboard, and paper scattered about. Leaning against the wall is a tall, thick box containing their brand new mattress.
Jemaine sits on the floor besides something that's supposed to resemble part of a bedframe. Realistically, it's just four planks of wood loosely screwed together. He rummages through the garbage surrounding him while Bret stands across the room holding instructions.
"No, there aren't any more of those screws, Bret."
"Are you sure?”
Jemaine sighs, frustration finally bubbling over. They've been at this for over an hour.
"Yes! I just checked! It's not here!"
"Move, let me see."
Bret puts aside the instructions and shoos Jemaine from his spot. Jemaine groans but obliges. Bret immediately points to where he was.
"You were sitting on it!"
The wind picks up, filling the room with a fresh breeze. Jemaine wipes a bead of sweat forming on his forehead as he tries to keep his composure during this project.
"How was I supposed to know that tiny thing was there?"
In the other room, abandoned on the kitchen table is blank paperwork Murray had handed them. The breeze picks up beneath it and it hovers a few inches across the table and onto the floor.
"Oh, by the way," he had said, pulling up to their apartment the day of their wedding, "Here's the paperwork for the annulment. You got 30 days to fill it out, so don't dilly dally!"
The wind picks up again. Jemaine yelps as he chases the building instructions around the bedroom as it flutters in the wind.
"Why did you just leave this out?" Jemaine complains, now even more exhausted. He rolls his eyes when Bret shrugs and squints at the paper to decipher the next step. No one notices that the annulment disappeared from its spot on the table. Not that night, when they finally unroll the mattress onto the finished bed frame and immediately pass out together. Not the next morning when they sit at the table for breakfast. And certainly not 30 days after their wedding day.