Marriage Challenge - Green Card
Oct. 21st, 2003 07:25 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
chesamus.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfiction554 words. Probably a bit preachy, but I have too many friends affected by narrow-minded bigots and the whole thing kinda pisses me off...
I came in from the garage, carrying in the last of the groceries. Fraser held an envelope out, hand steady and sure. I knew what it contained - my Permanent Resident Card from Citizenship and Immigration Canada. I just muttered “big whoop...” and headed toward the kitchen.
“Big whoop? Ray! I-I thought you’d be happy.” I knew why Ben sounded hurt. That card was everything. It meant I could stay in Canada. Stay with him.
I dropped the sack on the table with a thud and walked over to a pretty confused mountie. “It makes me mad I need it.”
“Ray--”
“It’s just so stupid. Let’s say you met some hooker on Navy Pier...”
“But I have met...” Of course he has. Probably rescued her hamster or something.
“Ben shut up. This is a morale story, okay?”
“Yes, Ray.” At least now he looked more confused than hurt.
“Okay, so anyway, you meet this hooker, and you get married, and the only thing they’re gonna ask is if she wants her ‘Welcome to Canada’ basket in English or French.” I tossed the envelope on the counter. “Now me, I have to get a special dispenser from the Queen--”
“A dispensation, Ray, and it was from the Crown as an expression of gratitude from a grateful nation.”
“Exactly!” I shouted. “That’s it exactly! If I’d just been me, I couldn’t be here, because you and me have danglies. The only reason Canada wants Ray Kowalski here is because you and me saved them from some idiot with a nuclear submarine. Doesn’t matter that I’m a good cop, honest citizen, willing to live in the frozen back of beyond so they can keep you on the payroll.” I glare at the envelope.
“Ray--” Fraser reached in and gave me one of those great hugs like he does. “Ray, you said you didn’t need to be married. You said all you needed was for us to be together.”
He was right, yeah. I didn’t need to be married - there wasn’t anyplace in the world that would let us - but I wanted it, wanted it more than almost anything. Because the day they would let us get married was the day I could be sure that nobody would split us up. Nobody could decide that maybe they wanted some idiot to have a submarine and we were wrong or something stupid like that. It’s one thing for us to know we’re going to be together forever. It’s something else to have everybody else know the same thing.
I nuzzled into his shoulder. The smell right there, right where his collar meets his neck is just the best smell in the world, better than bread or pizza. I could tell he was starting to worry about it. And when Ben starts worrying, he starts thinking, and the next thing you know he’s making those “we should move back to the States” noises.
“You’re right. Ben. Guess I just let it bug me today.” I bit him on his ear - a sure fire way to get his mind out of his head and into his pants where I liked it. Took about three seconds for the signal to reach his cock, another thirty for us to shuffle off to the bedroom.
Maybe we weren’t married, but we honeymooned just fine, anyway.
Interesting facts about immigration to Canada...
http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/immigrate/index.html
I came in from the garage, carrying in the last of the groceries. Fraser held an envelope out, hand steady and sure. I knew what it contained - my Permanent Resident Card from Citizenship and Immigration Canada. I just muttered “big whoop...” and headed toward the kitchen.
“Big whoop? Ray! I-I thought you’d be happy.” I knew why Ben sounded hurt. That card was everything. It meant I could stay in Canada. Stay with him.
I dropped the sack on the table with a thud and walked over to a pretty confused mountie. “It makes me mad I need it.”
“Ray--”
“It’s just so stupid. Let’s say you met some hooker on Navy Pier...”
“But I have met...” Of course he has. Probably rescued her hamster or something.
“Ben shut up. This is a morale story, okay?”
“Yes, Ray.” At least now he looked more confused than hurt.
“Okay, so anyway, you meet this hooker, and you get married, and the only thing they’re gonna ask is if she wants her ‘Welcome to Canada’ basket in English or French.” I tossed the envelope on the counter. “Now me, I have to get a special dispenser from the Queen--”
“A dispensation, Ray, and it was from the Crown as an expression of gratitude from a grateful nation.”
“Exactly!” I shouted. “That’s it exactly! If I’d just been me, I couldn’t be here, because you and me have danglies. The only reason Canada wants Ray Kowalski here is because you and me saved them from some idiot with a nuclear submarine. Doesn’t matter that I’m a good cop, honest citizen, willing to live in the frozen back of beyond so they can keep you on the payroll.” I glare at the envelope.
“Ray--” Fraser reached in and gave me one of those great hugs like he does. “Ray, you said you didn’t need to be married. You said all you needed was for us to be together.”
He was right, yeah. I didn’t need to be married - there wasn’t anyplace in the world that would let us - but I wanted it, wanted it more than almost anything. Because the day they would let us get married was the day I could be sure that nobody would split us up. Nobody could decide that maybe they wanted some idiot to have a submarine and we were wrong or something stupid like that. It’s one thing for us to know we’re going to be together forever. It’s something else to have everybody else know the same thing.
I nuzzled into his shoulder. The smell right there, right where his collar meets his neck is just the best smell in the world, better than bread or pizza. I could tell he was starting to worry about it. And when Ben starts worrying, he starts thinking, and the next thing you know he’s making those “we should move back to the States” noises.
“You’re right. Ben. Guess I just let it bug me today.” I bit him on his ear - a sure fire way to get his mind out of his head and into his pants where I liked it. Took about three seconds for the signal to reach his cock, another thirty for us to shuffle off to the bedroom.
Maybe we weren’t married, but we honeymooned just fine, anyway.
Interesting facts about immigration to Canada...
http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/immigrate/index.html
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