Osmond opened his eyes, groaned and tried to remember where he was. The ceiling above was unfamiliar. The smells around his were unfamiliar and judging by the weight and the sound of breathing on his left hand side, he wasn't alone.
Rather than turning to his left to find out who and or what was next to him, and assess the situation, Osmond decided to stall the inevitable and continue staring at that ceiling he had never seen before.
He remembered going to Las Vegas. Why, he was uncertain, aside from the fact that it had seemed like a good idea at the time. That and the airfare there was cheap. He also remember wandering around outside in the sweltering heat and taking refuge inside the Hilton.
He remembered reading a sign, saying that the Annual (14th? 15? 2nd? He couldn't remember) Star Trek convention was starting that day. The hotel was air conditioned and he didn't feel much like gambling, so he bought himself a ticket at the door. Not a very good ticket, but a ticket.
He was feeling rather science fiction-y.
He also remembered running into someone and having lemon juice spilled in his eye. This had lead him to the first aid room, cunning named 'The Sickbay'. He had his eye washed out by a very nice first aid attendant and had been given a two dollar voucher for the restaurant downstairs.
Figuring 'what the hell' he went down to that restaurant.
The line was long, but the food was supposedly good, and he'd get two dollars off whatever it was he ordered, right? The guy in front of him in line turned slightly, to look at him.
"Are you here alone too?" He asked, Osmond nodded. "D'you want to share a table then, we'll probably get a table faster." Osmond gave him a look, a 'what-who-excuse-me?' look. "I'm Kevin Darling, I'm in front of you in this line. I'm proposing we share a table."
Osmond considered this. Then accepted. Kevin smiled, Osmond smiled. Then he introduced himself. And so the small talk went on.
Eventually they did get their table, and, consequently, their menus. Osmond read the menu, puzzled. He had no idea what anything was. What's a Klingon? They drink blood? Kevin closed his menu, having decided and watched the looks of incredulity flash across Osmond's face. Osmond put down the menu, resolving to have whatever Kevin had, and smiled weakly. Kevin leaned over the table.
"You have no idea what anything is. Do you?" Osmond admitted that, Kevin nodded. "Alright. D'you like pasta?" Osmond answered in the affirmative. "Alright. Get... this." Kevin pointed, Osmond looked, something complicated sounding. "It's essentially fetichini alfredo. And to drink... would you like something 'interesting?"
Osmond, foolishly, nodded.
After this Osmond wound up with a really good pasta dish and a drink in a large cup that smoked.
But after that, everything was a blur.
Something involving the goblin song that had never escaped any man in his family when they got drunk. And driving to somewhere..
Osmond finally turned to see who was in his (at least he thought it was his) bed with him.
"Kevin...Kevin Darling?" He croaked, the other man's nose scrunched up, and the eyes opened slowly.
"Not so loud." He mumbled, closing his eyes. They shot open again. "Osmond?"
"Yeah. Umm.. what are you doing here?" Osmond asked, Kevin looked at him blankly. And then slowly, slowly sat up. He then rolled gracefully out of the bed and crawled in the direction of something on the floor. A small black box. He grabbed it and crawled back. Climbing back into the bed he looked at the box.
It was a video cassette.
The video cassette, as it turned out, was of a wedding. A Klingon wedding. Their Klingon wedding.
After watching it they stared at one another dumbfounded.
"We got married... in Klingon tradition." Osmond said after a while, only just grasping what a Klingon was.
"I didn't think that was possible." Kevin said. "I didn't think there was such a thing as a Klingon homosexual wedding." There was a pause, they looked at each other. "I should write this down." Kevin said after a minute. "I know some guys who are going to go nuts about this."
"Right." Osmond said, raising an eyebrow. "So. We're married."
"Yes."
"To eachother."
"Yes."
"And we are currently where?"
"In an apartment in..." Kevin looked out a window. "Somewhere that isn't Las Vegas," he paused, picked up a piece of paper on the nightstand. "That belongs to Kevin and Osmond Darling-Blackadder."
"In our new apartment."
"Yes."
"And all you can think about is telling someone that men can marry each other as Klingons?"
"Well, I have several other things on my mind, and they're all very pressing. However, this one thing is the easiest to grasp. So I'm working on it."
"Right. You've married me and we've gotten ourselves somewhere to live, despite the fact that we haven't any idea where we are."
"Yes."
"Does this bother you?"
"Not really."
Kevin and Osmond shared a look. Not a bad look, a good look. A look that spoke volumes and lasted for but a second.
"Doesn't really bother me either."
There was another moment of silence.
"And it'll keep my mother off my back about getting married."
Several months later, they parted ways. They had to work out exactly what had happened in that night they had gotten hitched and found an apartment. But eventually, they had to return o their proper lives. It didn't last long. They had gotten used to one another.
They met in the summer, in Las Vegas, in line at the star trek themed restaurant.
Kevin had asked him what he was doing there.
Osmond had explained he still had a two dollar off coupon.
a/n: I watched The Search for Spock last night. And was feeling very Trekkie. And no multi-chapter fic is complete without Trekkie!Darling. And for the record it is true that the first aide room in the Hilton (or at leas the Star Trek part) is called the sickbay. My mum got fluff in her eye once there and we go to go to it. I will halt with the nerd-ness now. Really.
Rather than turning to his left to find out who and or what was next to him, and assess the situation, Osmond decided to stall the inevitable and continue staring at that ceiling he had never seen before.
He remembered going to Las Vegas. Why, he was uncertain, aside from the fact that it had seemed like a good idea at the time. That and the airfare there was cheap. He also remember wandering around outside in the sweltering heat and taking refuge inside the Hilton.
He remembered reading a sign, saying that the Annual (14th? 15? 2nd? He couldn't remember) Star Trek convention was starting that day. The hotel was air conditioned and he didn't feel much like gambling, so he bought himself a ticket at the door. Not a very good ticket, but a ticket.
He was feeling rather science fiction-y.
He also remembered running into someone and having lemon juice spilled in his eye. This had lead him to the first aid room, cunning named 'The Sickbay'. He had his eye washed out by a very nice first aid attendant and had been given a two dollar voucher for the restaurant downstairs.
Figuring 'what the hell' he went down to that restaurant.
The line was long, but the food was supposedly good, and he'd get two dollars off whatever it was he ordered, right? The guy in front of him in line turned slightly, to look at him.
"Are you here alone too?" He asked, Osmond nodded. "D'you want to share a table then, we'll probably get a table faster." Osmond gave him a look, a 'what-who-excuse-me?' look. "I'm Kevin Darling, I'm in front of you in this line. I'm proposing we share a table."
Osmond considered this. Then accepted. Kevin smiled, Osmond smiled. Then he introduced himself. And so the small talk went on.
Eventually they did get their table, and, consequently, their menus. Osmond read the menu, puzzled. He had no idea what anything was. What's a Klingon? They drink blood? Kevin closed his menu, having decided and watched the looks of incredulity flash across Osmond's face. Osmond put down the menu, resolving to have whatever Kevin had, and smiled weakly. Kevin leaned over the table.
"You have no idea what anything is. Do you?" Osmond admitted that, Kevin nodded. "Alright. D'you like pasta?" Osmond answered in the affirmative. "Alright. Get... this." Kevin pointed, Osmond looked, something complicated sounding. "It's essentially fetichini alfredo. And to drink... would you like something 'interesting?"
Osmond, foolishly, nodded.
After this Osmond wound up with a really good pasta dish and a drink in a large cup that smoked.
But after that, everything was a blur.
Something involving the goblin song that had never escaped any man in his family when they got drunk. And driving to somewhere..
Osmond finally turned to see who was in his (at least he thought it was his) bed with him.
"Kevin...Kevin Darling?" He croaked, the other man's nose scrunched up, and the eyes opened slowly.
"Not so loud." He mumbled, closing his eyes. They shot open again. "Osmond?"
"Yeah. Umm.. what are you doing here?" Osmond asked, Kevin looked at him blankly. And then slowly, slowly sat up. He then rolled gracefully out of the bed and crawled in the direction of something on the floor. A small black box. He grabbed it and crawled back. Climbing back into the bed he looked at the box.
It was a video cassette.
The video cassette, as it turned out, was of a wedding. A Klingon wedding. Their Klingon wedding.
After watching it they stared at one another dumbfounded.
"We got married... in Klingon tradition." Osmond said after a while, only just grasping what a Klingon was.
"I didn't think that was possible." Kevin said. "I didn't think there was such a thing as a Klingon homosexual wedding." There was a pause, they looked at each other. "I should write this down." Kevin said after a minute. "I know some guys who are going to go nuts about this."
"Right." Osmond said, raising an eyebrow. "So. We're married."
"Yes."
"To eachother."
"Yes."
"And we are currently where?"
"In an apartment in..." Kevin looked out a window. "Somewhere that isn't Las Vegas," he paused, picked up a piece of paper on the nightstand. "That belongs to Kevin and Osmond Darling-Blackadder."
"In our new apartment."
"Yes."
"And all you can think about is telling someone that men can marry each other as Klingons?"
"Well, I have several other things on my mind, and they're all very pressing. However, this one thing is the easiest to grasp. So I'm working on it."
"Right. You've married me and we've gotten ourselves somewhere to live, despite the fact that we haven't any idea where we are."
"Yes."
"Does this bother you?"
"Not really."
Kevin and Osmond shared a look. Not a bad look, a good look. A look that spoke volumes and lasted for but a second.
"Doesn't really bother me either."
There was another moment of silence.
"And it'll keep my mother off my back about getting married."
Several months later, they parted ways. They had to work out exactly what had happened in that night they had gotten hitched and found an apartment. But eventually, they had to return o their proper lives. It didn't last long. They had gotten used to one another.
They met in the summer, in Las Vegas, in line at the star trek themed restaurant.
Kevin had asked him what he was doing there.
Osmond had explained he still had a two dollar off coupon.
a/n: I watched The Search for Spock last night. And was feeling very Trekkie. And no multi-chapter fic is complete without Trekkie!Darling. And for the record it is true that the first aide room in the Hilton (or at leas the Star Trek part) is called the sickbay. My mum got fluff in her eye once there and we go to go to it. I will halt with the nerd-ness now. Really.