All for the love of thee

WHAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW.

In conclusion, Orrin is an idiot. AN IDIOT WITH ADD.

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Silverlock stretched out on the couch with a treatise on arcanic engineering while Orrin explored the apartment. He kept an ear open for explosions or the sound of breaking glass and kept a pencil on hand to make notes in the margins.

"Sweet Goddess!" Orrin's head appeared over the top of the couch. "Can I marry your kitchen?"

"No," Silverlock replied, without looking up from his book.

Orrin's head disappeared. There was a clang from the direction of the kitchen before he reappeared. "Can I marry your oven-stove-thing?"

"No."

"What about the fridge?"

"Already in a committed relationship with the dishwasher."

Orrin sighed, and disappeared again. He returned a moment later, and sat next to the hulking entertainment system taking up one of the living room walls. "Can I marry your sound system?"

"No."

He sighed again, and rubbed it's sleek black side soothingly. "No one understands our love."

He wandered away again. Silverlock stared at the page he'd been reading in consternation; the margin was filled with little doodles of tiny rabbits.

Orrin came back and draped himself over the couch. "The jacuzzi and I are eloping. Just thought you might like to know."

He shut the book. "Orrin, you are not marrying or otherwise running off with any of my household appliances. I forbid it."

"Hence the eloping. You can't suppress true love." Silverlock stared at him. Orrin rolled his eyes. "Fine, I won't elope with the hot tub. Can I marry you?"

Silverlock went very still for a microsecond, and glared at the younger man. Orrin was grinning, but his eyes were serious. "No. I hate weddings."

"You must be evil. Everyone likes weddings."

His lip curled in disgust. "I don't. My sister got married- she was the most beautiful woman in the world when we were young, you know. I'm not exaggerating- there was a vote. And then she got married, and she turned fat and wrinkled and her hair fell out."

"Was she still the most beautiful woman in the world?"

He carefully placed his hand on Orrin's head, and shoved. Orrin fell off the couch with a squawk. "That's beside the point." The truth was, marriage had only made Sarila more lovely, weight and wrinkles aside. He was still bitter; there'd been a time when she had been beautiful for him.

"Fine, then. It's a shame- Faraz would've had fun being my second." His head popped up over the edge of the couch again.

Silverlock opened his mouth, and then shut it, looking thoughtful. "Would you make her wear a suit?" He was fiercely grateful to Orrin for leaving the subject of his siblings alone.

"She'd probably insist on it."

He paused a moment to savor that image, and wondered vaguely if Faraz would ever consider modeling. "How hard would you try to kill me if I had sex with her? Theoretically, I mean."

It was Orrin's turn to glare. "There is no try. There is only painful death. She's like my sister, man. And you'd have to take on El, Ravi, and Lindra, too, and Jay would totally kick your ass. He hates it when people make his work harder, and I'd need so much more therapy after killing you."

"Pity." In a way, it was a comfort to know that some things would always remain constant, no matter how much the universe shifted. Still, Faraz was one of the most attractive people he knew, and that kind of lost opportunity was a crying shame. "Oh, stop glaring. I'm perfectly capable of respecting reasonable boundaries, despite all rumors to the contrary."

Orrin held the glare for another moment, then shrugged, deceptively casual. "It's not like I really have anything to worry about on that score," he said, examining his nails. "You're far too short for her."

"Oh, that's it!" Orrin was already running, but his socks slipped on the carpet, and Silverlock performed a flying tackle off the back of the couch that would have done any of his old teachers at the Guild proud. He might be getting old, and he might be going soft, but that didn't mean Orrin stood a chance. "You're not so tall that you can't be dragged down to my level, boy."

Orrin was laughing to hard to respond, but that might have had something to do with the way Silverlock was tickling his ribs with the merciless efficiency of an Assassin High Lord. When he decided Orrin had had enough, Silverlock sat back on his heels and looked smug.

"You're such a bastard." Orrin was gasping for breath.

"And I suppose you're a saint?" he asked archly. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them; they sent a thread of ice down his spine.

"Of course not," Orrin said, oblivious. "I am only sleeping with you for your kitchen, after all."

"That's fine. I'm not a jealous man, and I don't mind sharing." He struck an aggrieved pose and flopped onto the floor beside Orrin. "Just don't make me stand second to my stove. My pride wouldn't stand for it."

"And you hate weddings," Orrin reminded him. "Still, this is a nice place you've got here."

"Your tax marks at work."

"Hm." Orrin dug his fingers into the carpet, leaving clawmarks in the thick pile. "What is it exactly that you do for Parliament?"

Silverlock gently removed his hand from the carpet and laced their fingers together. "You don't want to know, I promise you. But if you ask me again in a year, I'll tell you."

"A year, huh?" Orrin looke down at their hands, and his ears turned slightly pink. "Yeah, sure. A year. I can do that."

--

WHAT I DON'T EVEN KNOW. Someday I'll be able to write characters who aren't thirteen year old girls. IF THEY HAD PIGTAILS, THEY'D BE PULLING THEM. FATALITY.

Let's see, things- Orrin likes to cook, and is quite good at it, hence the interest in the kitchen. Silverlock's kitchen would make a professional chef jealous, but he hardly ever uses it. He can cook, he's just too lazy to bother most of the time.

And it's not so much that Silverlock is short- he is, but you never realize how short unless he's barefoot, and he's never barefoot except in the privacy of his own home. His shoes usually lift him up to 5'8" or therabouts, which means he and Orrin see eye to eye. But Faraz is 6'6", so anyone under six foot is too short for her.

Technically, they couldn't get married- marriage is a religious institution, and the Fifth Era is currently between religions. All the old gods are gone, and there aren't any new ones- just a giant carnivorous bird thing roosting in the top of Rianna's Tower. People try to worship it, but it usually just eats them. No one even knows if it's sentient.

Civil partnerships are available for any people, and convey all the legal aspects of marriage. There are even provisions for polygamous arrangements, since Ishkhahar was hardly the only deity of the Fourth Era to encourage polyamory. It's a purely legal arrangement, and is just as often made between business partners as it is married couples or groups. But Silverlock really does hate weddings; they leave a sour taste in the back of his throat.