VIVA LAS VEGAS
by maven
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: ER belongs to NBC and their lackeys.
SUBTEXT and VIOLENCE DISCLAIMER: Yes, maintext. No.
CONTINUITY DISCLAIMER: Rampage happens and then we're on our own.
EXPLANATION AND FURTHER DISCLAIMERS: This was a challenge Aerisjade, um, challenged. To wit: 1) Nevada has to pass a law legalizing same sex marriages. 2) Legaspi and Weaver have to be in Las Vegas the why's are up to you. 3) They have to get drunk, either alone or together. 4) When they wake up the next morning, they are in a large messed up bed in the honeymoon suit, married to each other. 5) Kim tries to annul the marriage, Kerry refuses. 6) Kim has to agree to trying to marriage for three months, if it doesn't work out Kerry will agree to the annulment. 7) Kerry's ex, a certain firefighter has to show up and cause trouble. 8) The line " My name is Kerry, K-e-rrrrrrrrr-y." 9) Romano yells at a stall thinking Kerry's in it, which she isn't.
Beyond the instant gratification issues I don't respond well to dares. Plus they started talking in my head... Please pardon any spelling and misnamed Greeks.
FEEDBACK, COMMENT AND FLAMES: Email at maven369@sympatico.ca
As consciousness slowly made an unwilling appearance I made three resolutions.
One, never, ever, ever attend another conference in Las Vegas.
Two, should I ever succumb to Robert's blatant blackmail, coercion, extortion and bribery to get me to a convention in Las Vegas never, ever, ever decide that skipping the key note lecture (in this case, Fiscal Strategies in the Public Health Care Sector and the Impact of Federal and State funding versus Private Funding on Patient Recovery Rates) and go to a bar. Especially one called The Elvis Parsley. Home of green beer 365 days a week and not just on St. Patrick's Day. Now there's a motto for you.
Three, should I ever skip the keynote lecture to go to dubiously named drinking establishments with dubiously coloured beverages dubiously called beer I hereby resolve to never, ever, ever wake up in bed with a strange woman.
"Oh, God, please turn down the sun."
Even if that strange woman is Doctor Kimberly Legaspi.
+++++
It had started off innocently enough. A chance meeting, an awkward conversation, an aborted farewell, a 'what the hell let's ditch the keynote speech', an 'I don't think green dye is a carcinogenic', heartfelt drunken confessions, a 3am search for a wedding chapel and the honeymoon suite of Ye Little Ol' Wedding Chapel and Notary Public.
Like I said. Innocent.
The mound beside me stirs again. After one entreaty to the deity she had lapsed back into sleep, head firmly buried under her pillow and all, and I mean, all of the blankets and sheets.
"Kerry?"
I muster up what dignity I can. "Yes, Kim?"
"What the hell happened?"
"What exactly do you remember?" That's right, Weaver. Play it cagey. Find out how much trouble she thinks you're in before admitting...
"Oh my God we got married!"
That much trouble. The Irish really should put warning labels on green beer. I think the food colouring reacts with the fermentation processes causing abnormally high alcohol content.
Kim, doing a passable impersonation of a blonde, naked tornado leaps from the bed and begins tearing frantically through the scattering of clothes. With a shriek worthy of Archimedes who, if memory serves was also fond of shouting eureka in the buff, she holds aloft a piece of paper.
"We're married!"
"Ummm, Kim. Remember DOMA? Vermont? Rah rah conservatism?"
She glares at me. "Obviously you haven't been reading the Advocate. Nevada amended their laws a few weeks ago. Low key, no fanfare. Word of mouth mostly."
"Why would they do that?"
She gives me a pitying smile. "Money. They remembered how much money they made in the fifties when they were the only state that would grant a divorce. A near guarantee of ten percent of the marriages in all of the US equals big bucks."
"What?"
"Don't worry. We're annulling this sucker. No way I'm going to be married to you."
"Excuse me?"
"We were drunk. Diminished capability. They even spelled your name wrong on the paper."
"Excuse me?"
"So we'll just pop out to the nearest justice of the peace and get the paper work rolling and this will just be a bad memory and..."
"EXCUSE ME!"
In the face of the full-throated roar of the red crested chief she finally falls silent.
"No," I say.
"No what?"
"No annulment. No divorce. No shredding the paper and pretending it didn't happen."
"Look, Kerry, be reasonable. We broke up. We ignored each other for six months. I took a temporary job in California just to be away from you for a year. We've moved on with our lives and..."
"No."
She sits on the end of the bed. She opens her mouth a few times but I just shake my head severely and she falls silent. Finally she sighs in defeat.
"What do you suggest?"
The words that had been running around in my head for the last fifteen minutes desert me like the cowards I am.
"Give us a chance?"
"What?"
"Give us a chance."
"You're serious."
"Yeap."
"You're insane."
"Likely."
She falls silent. I take that as a good sign. That and she's not throwing things at me.
"Okay."
"What?"
"Three months."
I dampen the grin by biting my tongue and just nod acceptance.
"And no sex," she adds.
"What?" Actually I try for the word 'what'. It actually comes out as some kind of squeaky whine.
"We know we can do the sex part." She looks at the rumpled bed. "Apparently we can still do the sex part." She looks at the handprints on the dresser mirror. I sort of lose her for a minute as she works out the permutations. "The sex part is not an issue. The living together, working together being partners is what you have three months to prove."
"So three months."
"Yeap."
"But no sex."
"You got it."
"Then for God's sake put some clothes on."
+++++
After a month I'm wondering if this was a good idea. Usually it's a good idea. The first time around we didn't do the play house thing. We did the sneak in the back door, have sex all-night and sneak out the back door. So, when we're shopping for groceries or picking each other up from work or doing laundry or watching Tomb Raider (again!) it's a good idea. When we spend an entire day off merely talking and actually getting to know each other and our hopes and dreams and plans and desires for a future it is an amazingly good idea.
When Kim dresses in her ultra short shorts and cutoff t-shirt that barely covers her sports bra before heading off for her morning run it's a bad idea.
I'm contemplating either a cold shower or a colder shower when the doorbell rings. I open it without looking, fully expecting it to be Kim who apparently doesn't have enough spare material in her running clothes for a pocket.
Imagine my delight when I see Christie, large as life and twice as belligerent.
"Look, Cory," she starts. She seems to have this inability to remember my name for some reason.
"Kerry," I correct.
"Whatever. I don't know what kind of sick and twisted game you're playing on Kimmie but I'm telling you now to put a stop to it. You had your chance, Cory..."
"Kerry," I correct.
"Whatever. You had your chance and you can't honestly expect Kim to jump through your hoops while you get your jollies. So just march your sorry butt to the nearest lawyer and start the annulment proceedings or, Cory, I'll..."
I lose it. I draw myself up to my full height and step right into her personal space. Actually, I think I stomp her foot with my crutch but I'm pretty pissed off by now and really don't care.
"My name is Kerry, K-e-rrrrrrrrr-y," I say, growling it out and sounding, if I do say so myself, terribly butch. "Now, you," I poke her collar bone, "can take your," I poke her collar bone, "sorry butt off my front porch and keep your," I poke her collar bone, "nose out of our," I poke her collar bone even though it was a my collar bone pronoun, "business. Or you'll need a lawyer for the restraining order and a proctologist to remove my crutch. Got it, KRISTEN?"
She nods once and is gone.
Heh. Exes.
What a great idea.
+++++
I glance at my watch, glance at the big one on the wall, and head to the lounge. Glance to the left and I see Kim entering through the ambulance bay. I give her a slight nod and walk through the door and to my locker.
"Ready to go, babe? I have take out in the car..."
The door crashes open. "Kerry!"
"Sandy," I exclaim.
"Is this her? Is this the," she pauses, looking Kim up and down and then up again, "the blonde?"
Amazing how she can make the word blond sound dirty.
"This is Kim. Kim, this is Sandy Lopez. I've mentioned her."
"Yes, you have," Kim says, psychiatrist smile firmly in place. And I have. But I didn't describe her nor have they met before now. "It's a pleasure to..."
"Cut the crap, Blondie," she turns back to me, approaching with what could only be described as feline grace. I back up until the locker stops me. She reaches out, hand cupping my cheek.
"Kerry, if this is some convoluted payback for kissing you in the emergency room," there's a squeak from behind us but we ignore it," then please, I beg you, forgive me. Come back to me. She broke your heart once, don't let her hurt you again."
With that she pulls me forward into a passionate kiss guaranteed to curl toes.
"Ahem," Kim says after a few seconds. "Excuse me?"
"What," Sandy asks as she pulls away. Kim holds up her left hand, fingers splayed and the gold band plainly visible and points at me with her left.
"Mine now. Hands off."
Sandy looks back at me, looking for permission or a sign but I just shake my head. She sighs and slowly turns, taking measured steps towards the door. She stops at Kim, turns and lets lose a spate of Spanish too fast for me to translate. From the blank yet worried look on Kim's face I'm assured she doesn't speak Spanish either. With a final shout and an 'ay carumba' she's gone.
I catch Kim's eyes. Strange, I thought they were blue, not green. Heh.
"God, Kerry. She's, she's..."
"Possessive?"
"Hot! I mean," she looks at me and then the door and then back at me. She doesn't say it but I can read her mind. It's one thing to know someone is special. It's another thing to have first hand evidence that other people, fairly attractive and, well, hot people, also know it.
She looks at me and smiles tentatively.
Heh.
"Still up for takeout?"
"Sure," I reply.
+++++
"Where is Weaver!" I hear the voice and turn. It's not running. It's fleeing. I figure I have five seconds before he spots me.
"Weaver! There you are!" Okay, three seconds. I don't stop. Ahead are the washrooms. I flip a mental coin and duck into one. "Next time you have your women fighting over you either do it at home or invite me!"
I hear a washroom door open but it's not the men's. I peek out into the corridor but it's empty. However I can hear his voice coming from the ladies room. I gird my loins and head in.
"I don't care who you are or what you are," Robert is shouting at the nearest stall. "I don't care what's wrong with you. But you just can't waltz in here and expect all the rules to change and everyone to bend over backwards for you. So you can just..."
"Umm, Robert," I ask.
"Not now, Kerry, I..."
He turns around and stares at me. He continues turning as the stall in the ladies' room opens and Millicent Carter steps out.
"Dr. Romano. If you feel your hospital cannot treat my condition then perhaps I, and my grant money, shall see if Mercy is more understanding with who and what I am."
With grace and poise she washes her hands and brushes past Robert.
Who, when they give out the Oscar for best impersonation of a goldfish, is a shoe in.
"You wanted to see me, Robert?"
"No, Kerry," he says, subdued and pale. "Forget about it. Milli...
Mrs. Carter, I can explain!"
Life can be good.
+++++
"Kerry?"
"Kim?"
"It's been three months."
I glance at the calendar and nod. I try to remember being this scared before. "And?"
She looks down at the ring on her finger. "Wanna consummate this marriage?"
I refrain from whooping like an idiot and nod and resolve three things.
One, never to let her know that I put Sandy up to that little scene in the lounge.
Two, never, ever let her know that I saw through her and Christie's reverse psychology ploys.
And three, never, ever, ever let her know that I always knew that Nevada hasn't changed their laws.
The End
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