Work Text:
March 8th 2014 - 2:05pm
Theo
He knew his life would make a sharp turn for the worse when Boris pushed the door to the antiques store open with so much force it hit the cabinet positioned next to it with an uncomely thud.
Boris looked at the cabinet puzzled as if it had just walked into his way. Theo hadn't seen him in weeks.
"Potter, we’re getting married", Boris announced outright before even taking off his coat that was drenched by the steady rain outside and dripping on the carpet. Generally he seemed a bit unfocused (to put it nicely) or completely out of his mind (to put it honestly). Who could say what drug trip he was on now? Maybe he had just gotten lost on his way to his current girlfriend if he had one, Theo didn't exactly keep track of that since it was of no interest to him. Other than that there really was no reason for him to come knocking at Theo’s door down with such an outlandish proposition.
"We are getting married", Boris repeated enthusiastically as if he’d forgotten he’d already said that.
"That won’t be possible", Theo said patiently. He couldn't believe what Boris was jabbering on about. It was offensive that he believed him to be a homosexual. Where could he possibly be getting these ideas from? Theo had never even remotely made such an experience before and he never would.
"Is not legal?" Boris sounded dismayed. "In Russia is not. When you try there they call exorcist. Is against God." He crossed himself. "But so is stealing and I’ve done that before, haven't I? What about America? So called ‘free country’, yes?"
"Right, well, it’s technically legal", Theo admitted reluctantly. "But I’m not getting fucking married to you."
"Why not?", Boris demanded. "Will be good, we will have much fun! I promise!"
Theo was pretty sure Boris’s education hadn't covered the meaning of the word ‘fun’. Boris had ‘fun’ last year at Christmas in Amsterdam. For Boris it was ‘fun’ to walk into a bar downtown and wake up without money, passport or memory of the last night in Honduras the next morning.
"You’re already dressed for occasion", Boris said, gesturing to Theo’s suit.
"This is what I wear in my free time!", Theo protested. How could Boris confuse a Tom Ford with a Brunello Cucinelli suit? Now it was abundantly clear he didn't have his senses with him. Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had to stay diplomatic now. Diplomatic and as competent as he navigated his other problems. He had everything under control — his life, his drug addiction, his relationships, his illegal furniture fraud, this situation.
"I’m not going to marry you." He gave his voice a composed but firm sound. Dignified and unshaken. "You can stop this…joke now." A subtle tint of irony.
Boris’s face fell. "I’m serious! Is really otchen vashna! Because if I don’t—"
"No. Absolutely not."
"But I—"
"That’s enough. No."
Boris ignored him. He spread his arms in a theatrical gesture. "Is really so bad, after everything I’ve done for you? I even helped you get your painting back, The Blackbird."
"Goldfinch", Theo corrected.
"That’s what I said", Boris claimed indignantly.
"Whatever. My answer is still no", Theo uttered.
"You’re not listening to me! This is about—"
"You’re asking the wrong person here." Unperturbed and not at all emotionally agitated Theo continued his work. He had a feeling it would be a very long time until he heard from Boris again.
March 8th 2014 - 2:05pm
Boris
Those damn amerikanzii. Those damn amerikanzii and their idiotic way of writing down the date. Boris was the proud owner of a residence permit until 03-10-2014. So until the 3rd of October of the same year, right? Wrong! Who on earth listed the month first?! No one in their right mind did! Which was why Boris had been utmost surprised when the day before he had emptied his mailbox for the first time in weeks and found a letter prompting him to leave the states imminently. To leave them by 10th of March to be exact.
And that’s how Boris came to climb into a cab heading for the East Village, contemplating what he would need to stretch Theo’s opioids with to make him say yes to Boris’s marriage proposal before midnight. He didn't necessarily want to get married to Theo but there were worse things, for example getting deported across the Atlantic when you had search warrants out for you in two Central Asian and three European countries.
Normally he wouldn't have a problem to lie low in Amsterdam for a while but since certain deals not involving law enforcements but rival gangs instead had gone wrong, he’d better not show his face there for a while if he held his life dear which he did, thank you very much.
-
Theo was going through receipts while Boris tried to forge an official seal under one of that old man’s magnifying glasses. He’d decided to try to forge a residence permit before he fell to his last resort. "Hey, does this look genuine? You would know as a…" He fell silent. He needed to be careful not to accuse Theo of anything he’d actually done, he was very sensitive when it came to that.
"Yeees?", Theo drawled.
"Expert. For official things." According to the glare Theo sent his way he barely let it pass.
"No." He looked over Boris’s shoulder to study his work. "The color here doesn't match and the water mark is missing completely."
Blyad. Boris crumpled the paper up and threw it in the corner. This wouldn't work. No forgery would be as convincing as an actual passport. He had contacts that could probably get him one but none of them would deliver by tomorrow so it was time to retreat to his last option which made more sense the more Boris considered it. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner!
Theo let himself fall backwards on the sofa. "Pippa and Hobie say I need to stop selling fakes", he lamented. "But what else would I do? There’s nothing else I’m good at."
"You can be salesman at optician", Boris suggested. "With such beautiful glasses!" He found Theo’s glasses incredibly ugly but he wanted to say something nice.
"Ha ha", Theo deadpanned. He really only had a sense of humor when he was drunk. Idle silence while Theo was too busy feeling sorry for himself to talk.
Boris considered different approaches to his plan. He couldn't say he desperately wanted to marry Theo now because he needed a green card, he’d feel like Boris was taking advantage of him. Even less suited was the option of claiming he had suddenly developed feelings of romantic nature for him - that wasn’t believable. Either way it was still worth a shot. Boris was naturally charming and convincing after all.
"Potter, we are getting married!", he proclaimed outright. Theo practically jumped up to the ceiling in shock like a cat who had just gotten a bucket of water emptied over its head. Boris couldn't imagine he would say no, not with the tactful and deliberate way he had approached the proposal.
"No", Theo said. He looked as alarmed as if Boris had just disclosed he only had one week left to live.
"No?", Boris repeated astonished.
"This isn’t funny, Boris", Theo hissed. "Why would I want to marry you?"
Why was he this insulted? Boris wasn’t such a bad match. "No need to throw a fit." He tried to give Theo a playful shove against the shoulder but Theo avoided his touch as if it would burn him.
"I’M NOT THROWING A FIT", Theo threw a fit. "I just find it very questionable that you’re accusing me of being gay."
That wasn't how Boris would phrase it (for Theo’s sake) but there were a few moments of their youth Boris could recall that Theo’s selective memory deliberately glossed over.
"No, no, of course not!", Boris assured. Maybe he could set up a marriage certificate without Theo noticing. It wasn't impossible that he was that oblivious. That’s what happened when you lived with Hymie or Horton or whatever the geezer called himself for so long. The situation was critical. In less than two days Boris would be arrested and forced to board an intercontinental flight. And illegal immigrants didn’t exactly fly first class… At least Theo had only jumped up in agitation so far, not charged out of the room. That was a success.
"It would make Pippa very jealous", he played his strongest card. Probably Pippa would be happy, she had been thrilled to see Theo go hand in hand with another woman at his engagement party, but now was not the moment to hurt Theo’s feelings.
"I wouldn't cheat on you behind your back like Kitsey did", he promised cheerfully. "I would say it to your face!"
Inexplicably this did not elicit a positive response. Why did Theo have to be so touchy about this. It wasn’t like it was a real marriage, it was a do your best and only friend Boris a favor so he doesn't have to leave country-marriage. Boris wasn’t too keen on marrying Theo if it could be avoided somehow but he’d heard that immigration authorities conducted interviews to make sure the couple married for reasons that exceeded citizenship and it was of advantage when he already knew the other person.
He took hold of Theo’s shoulders and forced him to face him. "It’s going to be fine. No big deal." Theo clearly seemed uncomfortable in the position so Boris didn't let go and took one more step towards him. He was getting somewhere here.
"Okay!" Theo pushed his arm aside and started pacing up and down. "I’ll think about it."
"Is that a yes?", Boris asked eagerly.
"No!" Theo shot him an annoyed look. "It’s a let me think about it."
Well you better think fast, Boris didn't say. He needed to give Theo some space now. Some alone time with his thoughts he had too many of. Hopefully a useful one would be among them too so that when Boris returned in the morning he would agree what an excellent plan he’d come up with.
March 9th 2014 - 10:36am
Boris
He’d thought the whole marriage business would get him a reprieve of at least a week. When had bureaucracy ever been this fast? Yet when he proudly reported his recent marriage to a real US-citizen on the phone with immigration authorities to make sure no one would drag him out of bed at 3am to put on a plane to Kyiv the success wasn't as grand as he’d imagined it to be.
"One of our officials will be with you in an hour to verify your information."
"One hour?" He must've sounded more startled than intended, because the voice on the other end asked: "Is that a problem?"
"No", Boris said. Yes, he thought. Theo had agreed to the fictitious marriage approximately five minutes and 47 seconds ago. At least he had agreed after all when Boris had stopped by the shop again this morning. There were no rings, no time to pose for wedding pictures or study flashcards with personal information about each other. Not even a notarized wedding certificate. It sounded worse than it was.
Boris still had leftover wedding rings from his previous marriages. He forced one of them on Theo before he could change his mind again and sprinted to the office in search of a certificate. When he returned a van with a suspiciously barred backseat was parked in front of the building.
Inside Theo and a pale, gaunt woman in her late 40s or early 50s were sitting at a table together.
"This is Mrs. Haynes from immigration authority", Theo said, clearly relieved he wouldn't have to come up with any more small talk. His face when he turned to Boris to greet him with an awkward half hug suggested he’d rather endure a round of waterboarding than the conversation that was about to follow. Which made Boris appreciate his if reluctant willingness to participate in the charade all the more. He could probably arrange to steal a world famous painting from some too rich to care oligarch’s personal collection as a thank you gift.
"Nice to meet you!", Boris lied and held out a hand. Mrs. Haynes set down a folder on the table. "Mr. Pavlikovsky—" She pronounced it Payvleikousky.
"Decker", Boris corrected. "I’ve always wanted to have name that isn't constantly pronounced wrong or misspelled."
"Mr. Decker", Mrs. Haynes started again. "So you see yourself qualified for a green card via your marriage to…uh Mr. Decker."
"That is correct", Boris agreed, nodding his head vigorously while trying to give Theo a nonverbal memo to please stop pulling a face as if he’d been forced into the marriage at gunpoint. There had been no guns involved. Fine. Maybe he had exaggerated the frequency at which dead fish were stuffed into the mailbox of his Amsterdam flat a little. So what.
"How long have you known each other?"
"Over 10 years", said Boris, at the same time as Theo said: "Around three years."
Mrs. Haynes’s eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.
"We’ve known each other for 10 years, but only spent three - or rather four or five - of them together. The rest of the time we were separated by circumstances outside of our control", Boris saved the situation. "For me it was love at first sight 10 years ago! True love!"
"True love at first sight", Mrs. Haynes repeated. "Interesting." She looked at one of her documents. "And that’s why you were married to three different woman in the interim?"
"Two different women", Boris resolved the misunderstanding. "One of them I married twice."
Mrs. Haynes wrote down a note. Boris leaned across the table to read the scribble but before he could steal a glance the official pointedly hid it under a fresh piece of paper.
"What about you?" She now addressed Theo. "Was it love at first sight for you too?"
"Uhh no", Theo said uncooperatively. Boris kicked at him under the table.
"Excuse me." Mrs. Haynes raised her pen. "Are those your wedding rings?" She gestured between the obviously mismatched rings they were each wearing. Boris hastily hid his hand in his lap but this woman knew no mercy. "May I see?"
"Theo is antiques dealer. He prefers it artistically", Boris explained, squeezed Theo’s hand and adamantly held on to it when Theo tried to withdraw right away. Mrs. Haynes turned the ring between her fingers. "The engraving on the inside says Boris & Yana ♡ 19.09.2011."
Boris froze. Theo looked to him for help or maybe to nonverbally convey the message how this was yet another plan of Boris that didn't work out like it was supposed to. "…We are - what do you call it? - recycling. So hard to get your hands on raw materials these days, you wouldn't believe it!"
"I don’t", Mrs. Haynes said curtly, writing down more notes. A steep line appeared between her eyebrows. Even Boris had to admit this wasn’t going great.
"Alright. We can move on to the solo interviews now."
Solo interview? Fucking hell. Boris had schooled his ability to improvise in one or the other penologic interrogation but for Theo this could only end in disaster.
"Mr. ‘Decker’, I’m going to start with you."
"Which one?", Boris inquired innocently. This elicited the first visible emotion of the morning from Mrs. Haynes: her eyes flared indignantly. "You."
Boris waved a hand to signal Theo to leave the room. "See you soon, moi lyubimui."
—
"I know Theo very personally. Can’t be measured with questionnaire, this! I was with him when he was at his lowest, I—"
"Mr. Decker, please answer the question."
"—am familiar with his soul. Does this not count more than knowledge of profession, family and such unimportant things as—"
"Do you or do you not know Theodore’s birthday?"
"April 10th."
Mrs. Haynes critically looked down on her file and then even more critically up at Boris again. "Are you sure."
"July 19th? May 8th? September 5th? No, June 22nd."
"You don't know your partner’s birthday?" Mrs. Haynes condemning question revealed that at his next guess his chances to be right would already be at 1 to 360. Maybe even at 1 to 359. He was pretty sure he’d remember if Theo had been born on New Year’s Eve.
"So you don’t", Mrs. Haynes jumped to conclusions. Boris raised his shoulders and held his palms out in a surrendering gesture. "No married man remembers birthday or anniversaries. This speaks in favor of real marriage. Look! Here! That’s proof."
"Are you bragging about being a bad husband?", enquired Mrs. Haynes. She pulled out her pen for another dreaded note. Boris felt like the pen was never employed when he gave a good answer.
"What are his parents’s names?"
This he could answer easily but then: "Where was he born?"
Silence. "Can you repeat the question, please?", Boris said to buy time. Anytime he couldn't answer a question at school he’d proclaimed ‘Me no english’ in his best Russian accent and still gotten a B- in the class. Unfortunately a simulated language barrier seemed like the wrong approach here. Ominous pen in hand again. He hoped the ink would run out soon.
"Ask me a different question. Ask about favorite painting. Or in which European metropolis he for sure never wants to celebrate Christmas again. Oder credit card number."
That was the wrong thing to say. It earned him an alarmed glance from Mrs. Haynes. "You’re telling me your motivation for the marriage was money?"
"No, the citizenship motivated me too. Obviously." The woman across from him apparently didn't get the joke, there was no other explanation for the frantic note-taking that restarted.
"No. No!" He’d only used the credit card once or twice in absolute emergencies where large sums of cash or his foreign credit cards weren’t accepted. All of which he’d pay Theo back. "For me this is not about money! Who do you think I am? I earn much more than him anyway."
"Is that so? What is your profession?"
"I’m a uhh" He pondered. "Hairdresser." He could hardly say he was a mob boss, because a) everyone immediately assumed he was involved in illegal shit and b) no one would believe him he was even remotely gay. All those stereotypes. Horrible how many clichés were out there!
Mrs. Haynes let it rest. "How did you two meet? Even you should be able to answer this", she added captiously.
He tried to blind her with his most charming smile. "Of course. Is long story! We’ve known each other since youth. Theo’s mother had just died - very tragic, this. It would be a shame if another loved person was taken away from him, yes? Anyway his father took him to Las Vegas where I too lived at the time. Every minute we spent together, we were inseparable, like brothers!"
The immigration lady pointedly cleared her throat. "So you would describe your relationship as brotherly?"
Boris’s eyes widened in shock. He couldn't believe he’d slipped like that. "No! Nothing like brothers! We weren't in love when we were young, back then we were like brothers. But now we are very much in love!", he asserted. This woman’s nitpicking really got on his nerves.
"Didn’t you mention earlier that it was love at first sight for you?" So much nitpicking. Boris didn't let his smile waver even though he fostered nothing but murderous intentions at this moment. "After our time in Vegas we didn't meet for many years. The first time we crossed paths again in New York it was love at first sight. Fate brought us back together!"
Finally his explanation was deemed acceptable and more personal questions followed.
When the end of the questionnaire was reached Boris used the opportunity to get some final beneficial stories in. "Theo learned Russian for me once." He inserted a break so the official would have enough time to write down a note. Which, of course, she didn't do since it would've been in Boris’s favor. "Even though myself I am not Russian but still nice gesture, yes?"
He had another idea. He conspiratorially leaned across the table and confided: "You know, I love Theo so much I forever wear his name over my heart." He pulled his shirt collar down to reveal a tattoo. On his left chest in cursive - and most importantly Cyrillic - letters was engraved the name of his first ex-wife. This Mrs. Haynes wouldn't uncover that so easily. Pleased with himself he leaned back in his chair.
Mrs. Haynes put her clipboard aside. I’m going to be open with you, Mr. Decker." Boris was pretty sure she only used the name because she didn't feel like pronouncing his real one. "You didn't convince me. I have uncovered a lot of false marriages in my career but never has my intelligence been insulted this badly. I don't even know if I can believe you’ve actually met your alleged husband before this day."
Boris was absolutely bewildered. Okay, he hadn't exactly tried hard to stay in touch with Theo in the past 10 years but that didn't make their friendship meaningless. They were much more than strangers, even now, and this woman had no right to pass judgement. Only she unfortunately held Boris’s future in her hands so he nodded obligingly. "I see. This was a setup from the start. How much do you want? 5k? 10k?" No reaction. "I have 15 thousand in cash here. Is good deal, yes?" Still no reaction. "Maybe Theo will add an antique flower vase if you ask him nicely."
"If you’re attempting to bribe me." Mrs. Haynes’s tone suggested it rather not be the case in his own interest. "I’d have to put that down in your file. And then you will not only get deported but also never receive another visa ever again."
—
March 9th 2014 - 12:51am
Theo
Boris’s interview or interrogation or whatever was the most fitting term for it went on for longer than he’d expected. Theo didn't know if that was a good or bad sign. In general he barely had any experience with politically motivated pretend marriages which were celebrated for reasons of immigration. Boris’s requirement for the marriage was that it went as fast as possible and Theo’s was that no one else got wind of it.
So far this had worked out well, only now the most unfortunate event of Hobie wandering into the living room took place. Theo had intended to hide him in the basement for as long as this interview thing went on but Hobie insisted on having a cup of tea at the same time every day. The door to the adjoining room swung open and Boris and the dreadful immigration authorities woman entered. Boris, arms crossed over his chest, cast a gloomy look across the room.
Mrs. Haynes plummeted at Hobie like a vulture with pen and clipboard ready.
"Do you believe Mr. Decker actually married for love?"
"Yes, of course!", Hobie said agreeably. "The union may seem unconventional at first glance but once you get to know the two of them you quickly realize they complement each other like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Theo and Kitsey are indeed very happy together."
Mrs. Haynes looked up sharply. "Not Boris?"
"Boris?" Hobie’s teacup came to rest midair. "No, I don't think that Boris and Kitsey are married."
Boris stepped up and laid a hand on Mrs. Haynes arm to subtly guide her away from Hobie. Dementia, he soundlessly formed with his lips. Mrs. Haynes gave an understanding nod. Theo wasn't thrilled to see Hobie presented as a senile nursing home inhabitant but he also didn't necessarily want Hobie to pick up on this marriage thing. With Hobie’s very limited observations skills it would take two years again before he caught up to the performative nature of the union.
—
The interview started with some questions about birthday, name of parents and place of birth he could answer easily (October 18th, Anna and Volodymyr, Odesa).
"Very good." Mrs. Haynes turned a page in her questionnaire. "You know more than your husband." Theo felt physically ill at the word ‘husband’. The idea alone that anyone would believe he was actually Boris’s husband was enough to send cold shivers down his spine.
"Where is he from originally?" That one was a bit more tricky. Theo knew Boris was Russian since he’d taken Russian for him in college but was there a Kazakh grandfather? A Latvian grandmother? A Bulgarian uncle to the side? He simply settled on Russian, not caring if it was the complete truth or not. He’d thought about interspersing some wrong answers on purpose (he didn't want to sound too devout when he claimed to be married to Boris) and this question offered a good middle ground.
"And what is your husband’s profession?"
Theo flinched at the dreaded word. "He’s uhh…" As much as it was the truth he deemed it smarter to refrain from revealing Boris was a professional art thief, drug dealer and probably mob boss too. "He’s…unemployed. I mean he’s not allowed to work. He doesn't have a work permit." He pulled the corners of his mouth up into his best fake smile. Usually that came across as very personable.
The official turned a page. "His favorite movie?"
Theo vaguely remembered Boris once mentioning his favorite movie was Requiem for a Dream but he wasn't quite sure if he’d been serious or making a dark-humored joke at his own expense. He tried.
"Interesting. What sport does he do?"
Theo contemplated how to euphemistically paraphrase ‘running away from the police’ and decided on: "He likes to do interval runs."
Short break, the rustling of lose papers across from him. "Have you actually learned Russian?"
He had taken a Russian class a few years back but all that had stuck was privyet and how to order a vodka. And he didn't even do that anymore since he’d caught Gyuri laughing at his pronunciation. Even though Boris profusely assured him he wasn't distinguishable from a native speaker after he’d said and let him repeat the words a couple times. Apparently he was that much of a hopeless case that even Boris gave up on him.
Answering the questions was a challenge. Not necessarily because he didn't know the answers (to the majority of the questions anyway) but because he wasn't sure if it made sense for him to know the answers. Did normal friends know these things about each other, like the name of the first pet (stray cat Dounya Boris had given scraps of their food to until his father chased her away) or the current phone number plus older now disconnected phone numbers by heart or in which Moldovan 30 inhabitants village he’d drunk himself into unconsciousness for the first time. Fortunately that question didn't appear in the catalogue. Of course he and Boris were normal friends. But not everyone would understand that.
"Alright. We’re done here." The official gathered her papers, most of which were covered in a tight joyless script that Theo didn't even attempt to decipher in case he actually succeeded at that. Better to get this whole thing over with as fast as possible, he could already tell the awkwardness would haunt his sleepless hours.
"And?", Theo asked nervously. Now that it was getting serious he realized he really didn't want Boris to get flown out of the country and disappear from his life forever.
"I have found your ‘marriage’ to be not authentic.Tomorrow morning your friend will be on a flight to Kyiv." She stood up, opened the door and almost swung it right into Boris’s face who wasn't even trying to look like he hadn't been listening in.
"No", Theo protested weakly. He pressed his eyes shut and emphasized: "We really are married. It’s the truth." He locked his fingers into the sleeve of Boris’s leather jacket. This didn't stop the bulky men from immigration authorities that had been called into the house from forcing Boris into handcuffs. Boris protested but to no avail.
"I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me now", addressed Mrs. Haynes Boris cooly. He was led out of the room. Before he reached the door he turned around to Theo and their eyes met. Boris smiled slightly, shook his head in a barely discernible gesture, is okay, not your fault. A dark strand of hair fell into his eyes, he blinked once. Then the door fell shut and Theo was alone.