“Jake, would you like to make your vows?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve also prepared your own?”
“Of course I have, can’t let this guy show me up at my own wedding.” Jake was smiling, cocksure. Amir knew that look, and adjusted his footing to steady himself for the incoming storm.
“I vow to be your devoted, and deepthroated, husband; til the day we high.” Jake pulled out a joint from his breast pocket, which he promptly dropped, tried to catch mid-air and spiked into the ground. He brushed his hair back with the offending hand, like it was intentional all along. “Amir - you are my greatest bish come Jew- true. I promise to love you in dickness, and in wealth.” Nobody laughed with him, so he forced an even louder chuckle. Turning back from the wedding guests, he unfortunately decided to continue.
“You will be loved, but you’d better gimme some sug-ar, yes please, ‘cause I got them moves like Bladder.”
“Think it’s Jagger,” Amir offered.
“Bladder. I pissed myself out of sheer dismay at the last wedding I attended. And dis may-,” he pointed a thumb to his chest, ”-was only 17 years old, but I’m petrified at the thought of it happening a third time - look at me, shaking like a queef.” Jake held out a trembling hand. Amir took it in his own.
The officiant spoke up, “17? That’s way too old to be pissing yourself. Also, everybody can hear you right now.”
“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Jake snorted, snatching his hand away from Amir.
“My name? Well, my name is - it’s a very normal name, it is of course Jaaammbell... Samanasah.”
“Well, Jambell, I urge you - cease this interruption of my fucking beautiful vows or get ready for me to blast you full barrel with my insult cannon.”
“You got a whole cannon?” Jambell asked.
“Yeah, a big cannon. A really big cannon.”
“It’s not that big,” Amir added, helpfully.
“It’s massive, okay? Look, someone gimme a beat so I can wreck this idiot-”
“Jake - stop yelling.” Amir looked him right in the eye, something dissuading; and soothing, like aloe on a sunburn.
“Shut up. Everybody shut up. Look. Amir - I’ll stop beating around the George Bush." Jake eased his expression. Lofty rage wasn't a good fit for what he was about to say.
"You mean a lot to me, and I care about you more than I’ll let you know. I care, even when you piss me off, even when I have to take you to the hospital at three in the goddamn morning because you punched out a car window to gank some guy’s wallet.”
“It was just sitting there betwixt the gearstick and his presumably unconscious body!”
“We’ve been working next to each other for like a decade now. I feel like we’re married already - I mean, I’ve seen you throw up, soil yourself, everything. And I’m still here.”
"We might be married," Amir said. "I still think that drag queen's certificate would hold up in a court of law."
“Maybe. You know, you used to be so needy back then. Now I’m the one who has to ask you out to dinner,” he chuckled. “Amir, I got to watch you grow up, into this, this self-confident asshole who doesn't care what anybody thinks of him. But I’d kinda like to see where you go from here. You are one of the most unstable, absurd, insane people I know... I love you. And, uh. You’re my boy.”
Jake wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and his nose as discretely as possible on the way down.
“That was beautiful, truly!” Jambell decided to keep going instead of doing a line off the altar. He’d save that for later. “Shall we exchange rings?”
Amir slid Jake’s ring onto his finger, reciting in Hebrew, “Behold, I am made exclusively yours with this ring.”
Jake pulled out the complementary band, and tried to remember the pronunciation he had practiced so many times in the mirror: “Behold, I am made exclusively yours with this ring.”
Jambell yawned, but powered through; “Now, Jake, do you take Amir to be your friend and partner in marriage, and in life?”
“I do.”
“And Amir; do you take Jake to be your friend and partner in marriage and life?”
“I do.”
“Then by the power invested in me I pronounce Jake and Amir to be married, lawfully or otherwise! Feel free to make out or whatever. I’m game to join as a third-”
Jake pulled Amir close before that sentence could finish. Their bodies fit together before their lips did, but it was soon easy to forget the order of events. A recognition flickered between them, as they held each other, that this was something permanent. They had worked together, packed up and driven across the country for each other, moved in together. But the best ice cream sundaes were always topped with a cherry - this was theirs. The finishing touch.
They pulled apart to applause from the guests. Tears drenched their faces but they couldn’t stop smiling, even when their cheeks hurt. The reception was beautiful, and surprisingly enough no bullets were fired, nor lines snorted (well, maybe just one). Amir dropped half of his chicken breast (a clever compromise) on the ground - Jake came to the rescue by offering his own, which tumbled down soon after. Murph and Emily snuck off to a toilet stall, and Leron swapped out the sniper rifle for a lasertag gun. Mickey had to exit early to pick up an action figure - and Amir’s dad departed in a U-Haul truck. Jake’s family were all too happy to leave Amir in his hands, somewhere, anywhere a long way from them.
All of that didn’t matter. Because when Jake and Amir left, they left together. They drove together, fought over directions together, and arrived at their apartment, which they rented together. Amir only got to remove his cufflinks before Jake was all over him, excited to “consummate the fuck out of this marriage.” And consummate they did. A few times, actually. Just to make sure.