Part 1

"Would you marry me?"

It's one of those nights where everything seems hazy, drowned in an orange plume of smoke that wraps around anything and everything like a thick fog… At first, Sarge thinks he imagined the statement. He'd been dozing for the past twenty-some minutes, maybe it had come to him in a half-dream.

Fillmore shifts to face him, holding himself up by his elbows. His face is inches away, and for a minute, Sarge thinks he could kiss him.

"Did you hear me?" Fillmore asks, gazing down at him. "I asked if you would marry me."

Sarge sighs, and lets his hand rest on the side of Fillmore's face. "Of course I'd marry you, but you know the laws-"

"The laws don't matter." Fillmore insists, "Let's do it, right now."

Everything is a revolution. Sarge insists, "Fillmore, we can't."

"We can." Fillmore says, "Look-Give me your hand."

Sarge offers his left hand, and Fillmore clasps it in his own. "Sarge. Do you take me to be your unlawfully wedded husband?"

Sarge chuckles. "Sure."

"Have you ever been to a wedding?" Fillmore asks. "You gotta say I do."

"I hardly think this counts as a wedding," Sarge counters. "We don't even have rings. Or a witness, for that matter."

Fillmore took a ring from his own hand- a simple gold-colored band with a bright red gemstone- and slipped it onto Sarge's ring finger.

"There's your ring." Fillmore says satisfactorily. "Please say I do."

Sarge couldn't help but giggle; seeing the ring on his finger was certainly strange. He looked at it for a moment, trying to decide whether or not this whole situation was serious.

"Come on, Sarge, are you marrying me or not?"

"Alright, alright, fine. I do." Sarge finally said, "Do you take me to be your-uh-"

"I do." Fillmore interrupted. He was quiet for a moment, as though he'd just realized what had happened. He finally finished: "May I kiss the groom?"

"You may."

They met not a moment later, kissing sweetly and finding themselves married.