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If he can help it, Paul Baker does not lie. He does not fib. He does not cheat.
Or, at least, he doesn’t physically cheat. But emotionally? He’s beginning to fear that he’s towing that line.
And okay, yes, it’s only been fourteen days and two hours since he got real married to his real friend turned real spouse who is not his real girlfriend. He has a husband. And the thing is, he chose his husband. He had two other friends, great friends, ready to marry him at his word, just so he could stay with them. But he looked over to Anton, and Anton looked back.
“What are you looking at me for?” Anton furrowed his brows, confused. When Paul Baker didn’t respond, he waved his glow stick in his face. “Hello? Earth to Paul Baker!”
“Will you marry me?”
Anton’s eyes widened, and the reality of what he just said crashed into Paul Baker. “Uh- Only if you want to! Sorry, that was-”
“Yes.”
Paul Baker was still rambling out apologies when he heard him. “And I really shouldn’t have just assu- Wait, what?”
“Yes, Paul Baker, I will marry you.” Anton quickly (maybe too quickly) gestured to their friends. “For the good of the house, I mean! We can’t lose our token Canadian by sending him back to Canada, right?”
At that moment, no one saw any problems with the idea. Paul Baker needed an American spouse, and Anton Evans was up for the job.
And now they’re married. Fully, legally married. They’re married and nothing has to change. Except it feels like it already did.
Maybe, just maybe, if they hadn’t kissed, then Paul Baker wouldn’t be trying desperately to control the thundering sound of his own heartbeat. The very heartbeat that fills his ears every time he looks at Anton. His friend. His best friend, probably.
His husband.
Anton jokes around. Calls Paul Baker his “hubby” and asks if he’s supposed to be referred to as “Anton Baker” now. He also always keeps eye contact for a beat longer than is probably normal. Not that there’s really a rulebook on how to interact with your platonic spouse that married you to stay in the country. It’s undefined territory, really. So they stare until they both feel their cheeks heat up and they force their eyes to flit away. It never takes very long. Just long enough.
Paul Baker jokes around too. Or at least he tries to. They got matching His and His mugs. Anytime Anton has a win, Paul Baker cheers “That’s my husband!” He even started jokingly calling Anton “baby.” Only, it’s started to sound less like he’s joking and more like he actually wants to call him his.
And yeah, there were little moments before they got married that made Paul Baker think huh, maybe… But that kiss… That kiss set off a chain reaction in his brain. Fireworks. Confetti. Rose petals. The works.
“Hey,” Paul Baker said, leaning against the wall outside Anton’s room. He was lit dimly by the nightlight Samir had plugged into the hallway outlet (“I don’t know where it’s from, man. My mom just likes to keep stuff from when I was a kid!” “Samir, this is a Trolls night light. Like, specifically from the movie version that came out when we were in high school!”)
Anton smiled when he sees him, slightly awkward but definitely genuine. “Hey.”
They were pretty buzzed from the copious amounts of alcohol and the two (or was it three?) joints they’d passed around the five of them. Add in the cheap wedding cake and whatever they had found in the fridge when the munchies hit, it was a really good night. Plus, it seemed pretty certain that memories of The Kiss were laid to the wayside in favor of watching the 2005 smash hit “Cars” (Paul Baker’s pick, seconded by Billie and Samir).
Never mind the fact that, underneath the beer and the weed and the cake, Paul Baker could swear he still tasted Anton Evans on his lips.
But that was neither here nor there. That wasn’t what they were. They were just two friends. Who happened to be legally bound together. Possibly forever. Definitely for now.
“I just wanted to say thanks again, for y’know, marrying me.”
Anton shrugged, almost passing for casual. “Eh, it wasn’t so hard of a task. I could do a lot worse than you, Paul Baker.”
“Same. I mean, you are one of the coolest people I know.”
Anton smiled again, wider this time. “Exactly! I’m helping you move on up in the world, if anything. Think of how many new friends you’ll make!”
At Anton’s words, Paul Baker raised an eyebrow. “More like, how many potential murderers…”
“Oh my god.” Anton scoffed. “You accidentally befriend one serial stabber and suddenly that’s your whole schtick…”
Paul Baker pushed off the wall, the teasing grin on his face reaching his eyes. His head had a slight tilt as he looked at Anton. “One might say that one serial stabber is more than enough.”
With a roll of his eyes, Anton stood tall. “Okay, judgy. Sorry for trying to keep my twenties interesting.”
Paul Baker stepped closer. “No one can say that you aren’t doing that.”
Muffled laughter came down the hall, from where Issa, Billie, and Samir were either doing coke or more shots. Possibly both. Either way, the sound was a reality check for the two left standing in the hallway.
They were suddenly aware of how close they were. Both of them just stared at each other, trying and failing to find words. The air was warmer than it had been just a moment before. It was thicker now too, heavy and sticky. Almost like the air had been turned to syrup. It could have been as a result of the weed they had smoked. Or the abundance of cake they stuffed themselves with. Or the fact that the electricity had gone out at the start of summer and left them in more heat than they had been prepared for.
Anton shook out of it first, inhaling sharply as he took a step back. “Goodnight, Paul Baker.”
With a few slow blinks followed by a quick nod, Paul Baker moved out of the way to allow Anton easy passage to his room. “Right, yeah. Night, Anton.”
And now, they were… Whatever they are now. Friends? Definitely. Husbands? Legally… Anything in between those two categories seems to be up for debate.
The fact of the matter was, Paul Baker has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who he adores, honestly.
He just also has a husband, who he might be catching feelings for.’