Work Text:
no space divorce attorney required
Hal's smile is infuriating and Kyle has half a mind to punch the fuck out of it. Which, he would, really, if not for the fact that he just pulled the biggest lie he could pull out of his ass. That, and also the lie just happens to include Hal in it.
"You two are betrothed?" the soon-to-be-ruler of this planet asks like they can't believe it and Kyle really can't blame them.
"Oh yeah," Hal's smile grows bigger which tells Kyle just how much he's gonna owe him after this. He does his best not to tense up. "Big time."
"And yet," the in-a-month-ruler keeps pushing, though—it seems like Kyle has made too much of a good impression (that, or they agree with a general popular consensus back on Earth that he has a nice tushy), "he bears no mark, no claim of your own upon his person."
Throwing an arm around Kyle's waist, Hal pulls him closer, so close they are basically glued together. It's an universally understood possessive gesture. It's also good the tomorrow-ruler can't feel the way Hal's squeezing bruises into the muscles under his hand.
"We are forced to keep it a secret," he says and why does lying and playing along to this come so natural to him? Oh, right. This is not Hal's first rodeo when it comes to alien marriages. "For his safety. There are many out there who would love to harm him just to get to me. And I can't allow that."
Each second that the hand doesn't move, is a second Kyle's painfully aware of the warmth the other's body exudes. Of the strength of his hand. Which is kind of a risky thought to have when there's always been a crush straining on a very secluded corner of his mind where he's kept it all this time.
The almost-official-ruler looks at them again. They hums with a finality that seems dooming but one furtive glance at Hal lets Kyle know the man is ready for just about anything. Which is good, because he really doesn't want to marry this, uh, alien who wants to claim him as part of their mutual agreement. And he believes Hal will not sell him off just like that. Right?
"Accepting your proposal is not without risks," they says at last, expression shifting into something cordial but calculating. "It is unfair if our sides aren't equal."
Hal's hand travels a little lower, squeezing Kyle's hip.
"I don't think these things can be compared. We've been promised to each other for quite some time."
The ruler does not bend. "And the war we've agreed to stop has been an ongoing thing for human centuries."
And now there's glaring going on again.
Clearing his throat, Kyle leans into Hal, tries his damn best to act like the fool for love he is.
"What do you propose?" he asks even though it's pretty clear. Next to him, the older man is a firm line of tension.
"We'll celebrate a wedding," and smiling, the alien ruler extends their arms, hands pointing at the two lanterns, "and solidify our treaty!"
The hand at Kyle's hip squeezes even tighter. He does his best not to squeak.
Alone in the same room, moments before the ceremony, they look at each other and—there's a sigh. That wouldn't usually be a good thing before a wedding, but their circumstances aren't usual and the price they are paying isn't really good. Kyle stands up, then, to start pacing the room, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides.
The cape the ruler asked them to wear (ceremonial, ornate, intricate) swishes behind him and lags after each turn he does to keep himself in movement. It carries on like that for a minute, two, until—
"This is happening because you are here," he blurts out, not thinking it through.
Looking away from the window, with an unfairly composed expression, Hal turns to him. Clearly unimpressed.
"Because of me."
"Yes!" and Kyle's getting agitated and his cheeks are red. "This kind of stuff always happens to you!"
Hal stares at him as if he's trying to either develop heat vision or sudden mind reading powers.
"Kyle," he starts and leans against the window, "you are the one who fucked this one up."
A pause. "No I didn't."
This time, Hal actually laughs. It takes over all of him as he throws his head back and his eyes close, lines of mirth forming around them. His shoulders shake and with the light streaming in through the window, Kyle thinks he's watching something that's close to a miracle. Live, incarnate art. And he wants, he wants to…
"You caved in under the pressure," Hal can speak again after he takes counted deep breaths, eyes shining. He steps closer, too, so close that they are crowding into each other's spaces. "I didn't plan on agreeing to that asshole marrying us because of some alliance they will break in like, two weeks."
Kyle grunts, lightly punching his shoulder.
"I didn't—I didn't cave in," one pointed look thrown at their… updated outfits and he sighs, "alright, I did cave in. I just. Is this so bad?"
"What?" and Hal pats his side, slides his fingers down till he stops at the hips. "Marriage in general or us being space married out of pressure?"
"You're. You're way too cool with this."
Shrugging, the hand trails back up, fingertips meeting the line of a collarbone and stroking it once, twice.
"Not my first rodeo, Kyle."
They stay silent after that. Standing close enough that they can count the exact number of each other's eyelashes. Close enough that Kyle's struggling too much not to be caught staring at Hal's lips. Close enough that each touch can't be accidental.
Noise and what goes for music start picking up volume just outside. Through the window the ceremony can be seen. It's time. It's their time.
Hal smiles again. A softer smile, one that makes Kyle's knees a little weak.
And he says: "You know… I'm kind of glad it's you this time."
And the door to the room opens.