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Robert wins just over $2,000 in the casino and he looks over at Aaron as he thumbs through the cash, a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes.
“Let’s get married.”
*****
They end up outside the Little White Chapel – because that’s where everyone who decides to elope in Las Vegas ends up – and Robert sticks $500 down on the reception counter and cocks his hip into the side of it.
“We’d like Elvis,” he says to the woman behind the desk, and Aaron rolls his eyes, bites his lip to curb a smile. Elvis – of fucking course.
The woman nods her head, that overly bright American customer service smile on her face. “Of course sir, will you be needing rings?”
Aaron tilts his head and he sees Robert glance at him quickly, nervously lick his lower lip and reach into his jacket pocket.
“Er no, we’ve got our own.” He answers quietly, pulls out a familiar black box that Aaron hasn’t seen for years now, almost 7 to be precise. He looks towards Aaron again and flicks open the lid with a small click. “If – if that’s okay with you too?”
Aaron blinks at them, feels a tightness in his chest that he wasn’t expecting to feel at the sight of what essentially is two shiny pieces of metal – but they’ve survived too, just like them, survived sinking to the bottom of a lake, a one night stand, two marriages and prison and a divorce, and now they’re here as well, 5000 miles from home and in Robert’s pocket.
He must’ve been snooping, Robert. The last place Aaron had put the rings was inside of a box of stuff he hadn’t been able to get rid of from his and Robert’s old life. He’d stashed it in alongside their wedding albums, Robert’s watch, Seb’s favourite toy, and had placed the box in the small loft of the flat when he’d first moved in – obviously Robert had been having a good old nose about when he’d been up there to put away the Christmas tree.
Aaron swallows, feels a slight sting to his eyes as Robert continues to look at him – half hopeful and half worried he’d overstepped. He nods his head and smiles, nods his head again and wipes quickly at his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah it’s okay.” He smiles, and Robert beams at him, turns back to the receptionist to ask her to run them through the process.
*****
There is an Elvis, and also an elderly couple from Australia of all places who act as their witnesses.
They have cheesy photos taken in the chapel itself, and Robert acts like a kid in a sweet shop when he spots the big, shiny red Cadillac outside. They kiss when the dodgy looking Elvis proclaims them husband and husband (again) in an over-the-top voice, and the ring feels warm and just right as it sits on Aaron’s finger again – almost like it never left.
Afterwards they head back out onto the strip, hit another casino – Robert eager to test their ‘newlywed’s luck’ – and drink glass after glass of champagne bought with the rest of Robert’s winnings.
It’s late when they make it back to the hotel, Aaron unsure exactly of the time but the sun is starting to rise again, the sky lightening behind the ever-present flashing lights of the Las Vegas nighttime.
Robert is a giddy, drunken presence at his side, his left hand firmly clasped in Aaron’s right and a half empty bottle of champagne in a paper bag in the other. He hasn’t stopped smiling, hasn’t stopped beaming since they’d stepped foot into the chapel.
It looks good on him – happiness – and it makes Aaron happy to know that he is the reason that Robert is shining so bright.
They make it through the hotel lobby and successfully to the lift, Robert glued to his side and pawing at Aaron’s waist as they stumble out again and into the corridor.
He kisses at Aaron’s cheek, over and over as they stand outside the door to their hotel room, Aaron awkwardly wedging his fingers into his jeans pocket to try and grab the keycard. He eventually pulls it out and shoves it on the card reader until the lock clicks, he nudges the handle down and the door swings open, makes to steer them inside until Robert protests and pulls him back, grabbing at his arm.
“No, no, no. Wait, wait,” he says, swaying a little and reaching out to hold Aaron still. He has a dopey smile on his face and his eyes are glazed and sparkly, the champagne bottle still in his hand. “You should – you should carry me yeah? Over the – the threshold.”
He stifles a hiccup and Aaron looks at him, snorts a disbelieving laugh and leans his head back a little so he can look at him properly.
“You what?”
“Yeah – yeah! S’tradition in’t it?” Robert replies with a lopsided grin; Aaron looks at him again, smiling himself, and shakes his head.
“Robert – ”
Robert leans forward and kisses him, wet and a little sloppy, and he hums into Aaron’s mouth.
“C’mon, c’mon.” He murmurs into Aaron’s lips and kisses him again, squeezes Aaron’s waist. Aaron laughs and pecks at his mouth.
“Robert you’re hammered.”
“Hammered for you,” he says, like that makes any sense, as he sways into Aaron and looks at him through heavy lashes. Aaron rolls his eyes, fond, and sighs, nods his head to the side.
“Come on then, soft lad.” He mutters, squeezes at his husband’s – husband’s – hip and leans back. Robert grins, pleased and intoxicated, and wraps his arms over Aaron’s shoulders – the champagne bottle a weight against his back – and lifts his legs up when Aaron reaches down to slide his arm under his knees and pick him up.
“Christ Robert, you’re fucking heavy.” Aaron groans as he kicks the door open with his foot and stumbles inside. Robert makes a protesting noise but laughs and slides one hand back, cups his palm around Aaron’s cheek and pulls his head towards him.
“Love you too.” He murmurs, and leans in to kiss him deeply, his thumb running back and forth through the light stubble on Aaron’s jaw. Aaron sighs and kisses him back, continues to edge inwards until his grip falters on Robert’s legs and Robert’s weight sends them toppling forward and down to the floor.
Robert moans and Aaron laughs from his place now splayed on top of him. He lifts himself up on his forearms, bracketed either side of Robert’s head, and looks down at him, runs his fingers through the floppy fringe of Robert’s sun kissed blond hair.
“You alright?” He asks softly, grin on his face as Robert blinks one eye open and glares at him.
“This what this is – you marry me again an’ then try an’ bump me off for me money?” He grumbles petulantly; Aaron snorts and pushes Robert’s fringe all the way back off of his head.
“What the measly $600 that’s left in your pocket?” He answers with a raised eyebrow, Robert blinks both eyes open and hums thoughtfully.
“What – what was it that Katy Perry said? In that song?” He asks then, and Aaron pulls his head back, frowns at him in amused bewilderment – Robert and his shitty taste in pop music.
“You what?”
Robert nods and drops the still intact champagne bottle down onto the floor at their side, it goes rolling away towards the bed. He reaches up and palms Aaron’s face, puts on a silly low-pitched voice. “‘Shuddup an’ – an’ put your mouth where your money is.’”
Aaron bites his lip to hold back the burst of laughter that threatens to overcome him; he’s an idiot when he’s like this, Robert, a soppy, stupid, drunken git and Aaron loves him so, so much – has loved him since he was 22 years old.
“Well, I know where your money is don’t I?” He murmurs with a leer, traces his fingertips down towards Robert’s jeans pocket. He slips them inside and pulls out the folded bank notes, holds them up and tosses them until they scatter over the carpet. He slides his hand back down between them then, watches Robert’s eyelids flutter as he cups him and rolls his palm, smirks.
“You want me to put my mouth there too?”