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It’d been a bit of an impulse decision, really—one made out of relief that they hadn’t lost one another, that Arthur hadn’t lost himself. Out of gratitude to whatever forces were at play that they’d made it out of Addison, that they were on this train with a warm place to sleep and rest their legs. Out of love, for each other and for the respite they’d found themselves in.
It was, in retrospect, also a decision made under very little sleep. But they both preferred to ignore that part.
They’d been on the train in an empty car, Arthur leaning against the window and John looking out at the passing countryside. There’d been no context, no leadup—Arthur simply asked, completely out of the blue, “do you want to get married?”
John had been, to say the least, caught off guard. “What? Arthur, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about marriage, Jon,” Arthur replied. “I think we should get married.”
“Why?”
“Why not?” Arthur countered. “After all we’ve been through. We deserve to have something special.”
“And that something is…marriage?” John paused for a moment. “Arthur, are you drunk?”
“What? No! When would I have been drinking?”
“I don’t know!” John exclaimed. “I just didn’t expect you to ask me to marry you.”
“I didn’t either!” Arthur admitted. “I was just thinking. We’ve still got a lot of things ahead of us. Miles to go before we sleep. It’s going to be difficult, but wouldn’t it be something to go through it all with a husband as well as a friend?”
“I suppose,” John admitted. “I mean, you know that…” he hesitated, before continuing. “You know that I love you, Arthur.”
“I love you too.”
“It’s just completely out of nowhere. Who would even officiate it?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Kayne.”
John was completely speechless for a moment. Then, “Arthur, you’re fucking drunk.”
“I’m kidding, John!” Arthur assured him. “Honestly, I assumed we’d just buy the bands and wear them. Our present situation aside, we’d be searching for ages before we found someone willing to marry a pair of men.”
“Fair point,” John agreed. “And…it wouldn’t bother you? To be marrying a man?”
“I’m the one who offered, aren’t I?” Arthur pointed out. “Besides, don’t tell me you think that after the Dreamlands, meeting the King, everything we saw in Addison, hell, nearly dying four times—”
“Four too many.”
“—the thing to faze me would be marrying a man.”
“Look, I just…I wanted to make sure,” John explained.
“Well, you’ve made sure. John Doe, will you marry me?”
“You’re really determined to do this.”
“Just answer the goddamn question.”
“Alright, fine, Arthur,” John sighed, a smile audible in his voice even though Arthur couldn’t see his face. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
The next day, after Arthur’s first full night of sleep in far too long, they stopped in Albany. Arthur received a much-needed haircut, and the two spent a bit of time picking out something for him to wear that hadn’t been through the Dreamlands and back again. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like he’d finally left both places behind. He was hardly a new man, but he felt a bit closer to one now that he looked less like he had one foot in the grave.
That only left one thing to take care of. He’d been worried, at first, that John wouldn’t remember their earlier conversation, considering that up until that point neither of them had brought it up. But John had, in fact, been the one to remind him that they still needed to buy a pair of rings if they were really going through with their plan. So the rings were purchased, a matching pair of golden bands—which John at first thought was meant to be a joke—that each placed on the other’s ring finger.
It was a quiet moment, heavy with the weight of everything that had happened and everything to come. They didn’t bother to prepare vows—it wasn’t a proper ceremony anyway, and they’d said enough to each other that communicated everything they needed to know. They loved one another. Neither would leave the other’s side, whether or not they were given a choice in the matter.
Arthur recalled his first wedding, where he’d stood at the altar in an uncomfortable suit with a woman he didn’t love. This wasn’t like that. Even without a big celebration, this felt more real. He wasn’t pretending to be someone he wasn’t to live a life he didn’t want. He was with his best friend, someone he really, truly loved, silently reiterating promises that had been made over and over again.
–
In the car with Oscar, there was little conversation to be had. Arthur’s thoughts felt incredibly loud, even with John just as silent as him, so he decided to let the pattering of the rain stand in for any small talk that he normally might have started. The sound was much more calming, anyway—repetitive enough to be white noise, but not so obnoxious that it became irritating.
Besides, he thought bitterly, any conversation with Oscar would lead to yet another spike of jealousy from John, and Arthur really wasn’t in the mood for another argument.
It seemed, at first, that the want for silence was mutual between the three of them. But unfortunately, Oscar didn’t seem to return the sentiment.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began suddenly. “Why do you wear those rings?”
Arthur hesitated for a moment. The rings. He’d nearly forgotten. With the Butcher, Scratch, and everything else they’d dealt with since arriving here, he hadn’t had much time since that first day to really process it.
He’d married John. He was currently in the middle of an argument with his husband.
“Why don’t you mind your fucking business, Oscar?” John muttered.
Oh, shut up, John. “Sorry?” Arthur asked, hoping to buy himself time to think of some sort of explanation.
“The matching rings on your hands,” Oscar explained. “I guess I was just curious why you wore them. I assume if you were married, you wouldn’t be wearing both, but I can’t think of any reason why you would be wearing them.” He paused. “You don’t, ah, seem like the married type…?”
“I…no, I-I’m not,” Arthur stammered.
“You couldn’t even pretend I was a wife waiting back home?” John asked, his voice dripping with irritation. “At least you’d be fucking acknowledging me.”
Oh, for god’s sake. “One belongs to a very dear friend of mine,” Arthur sighed, trying to sound considerably less annoyed than he felt. “Whom I love very much, even when he frustrates me beyond words.”
“Thanks,” John deadpanned.
“We wanted something to…show our bond. Something material.”
Oscar paused. “And you decided to wear them like…wedding rings?”
Shit. “Neither of us are really…looking for wives. We thought it might be easier for people to just assume we were already married instead of wondering why we haven’t settled down yet. People like to ask a lot of questions, and we weren’t in the mood to answer them, so we just…said we both had wives and left it at that.”
“Fair enough,” Oscar replied slowly. “But I still don’t understand why you’re wearing both.”
“Don’t say that I’m dead,” John insisted, sounding slightly less irritated now.
“He’s…at sea?” Arthur tried. “He didn’t want to lose his ring, so he gave it to me.”
“Hm.” Oscar sounded deep in thought, like Arthur’s words had reminded him of something. Or maybe he still wasn’t convinced, in which case Arthur wasn’t really sure what more there was to say. “Well, my best wishes to your friend.”
“How kind of you,” John muttered sarcastically.
“I’m sure he’d appreciate it,” Arthur replied.
“I’m sure he would not,” John insisted.
“Very much,” Arthur added, purely to be irritating. If John was going to act immature, then two could play at that game.
“Shut up,” John huffed. Arthur considered pressing the issue further just to continue being a pain in the ass, but Oscar didn’t say anything more on the subject, and after a moment’s deliberation he eventually decided it wasn’t worth it. He should focus on driving, anyway. Arthur would never forgive himself if he got them all into an accident just because he wanted to irritate his husband.
His husband.
Arthur smiled, just a bit, as the rain continued to patter against the windows.