(2019-01-19) The Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority Lies
What happened in Vegas shows up in the mail.

This isn't exactly what Cash had planned when he moved out to Colorado, but he's not complaining. Having Vyv around has been refreshing, uncomplicated, free in a way he'd never really known. There had been all of these strings and expectations tied to every other relationship in his life. Doing nothing on a quiet, Saturday morning made him smile even as he leaned his hip against his kitchen counter. Outside, the world was still cold and covered in snow and ice - But the morning was letting in lazy, hazy sunlight that made the bare tree branches outside the window sparkle. Icicles reached down from the gutters of the house, casting the morning light in an array of colors. The coffee pot sputtered and popped in its usual way, a soft music to the quiet morning.
"Hey Google, tell me the news." Cash says then, pushing away from the counter as Google began its list of morning announcements. The Google Home voice was a soft, feminine thing and it was soothing enough to let drone on as he stepped through the living room and went to check the mail. A small stack of papers is retrieved, placed on the table before Cash moves back to the kitchen to pour two cups of coffee.

Vyv doesn't seem to be complaining either — not about that, at least. He's fairly good at complaining about things in general, with distinctly varying levels of how much they actually matter. Most of them don't really seem to, much, which probably includes, "Someday I will use a toothpaste which claims to be mint, and it will actually taste like mint," which is what he's remarking as he saunters into the kitchen. With, should one get close enough to check, reasonably freshly minty breath. And he's inclined to have Cash close enough to check, coming in behind him and pressing a quick, light kiss to the back of his neck. He probably hasn't got a toothbrush that stays here, but he does have pockets and the ability to plan ahead, which is probably a boon for everyone involved. "Good morning," he says, then, "…one of these mornings, I'll make us croissants." But the dough has to sit for ages, and he hasn't yet planned quite that far ahead.

Even without those planning skills, Cash keeps a well stocked guest bathroom. Why? Who knows - It's not like he regularly invites anyone other than Vyv over, and it's not like Vyv has any need for a different room. Maybe it's just an old habit. "You know what I miss?" He says in response to the comment about toothpaste, "You remember back in… Oh fuck, I dunno…" Smiles at that kiss to the back of his neck, leans back to press on in return to Vyv's jaw, "2005, maybe? Crest had this vanilla mint toothpaste. Only lasted like six months." Really, Cash? You have a weird memory for six months of vanilla toothpaste? Okay, weirdo.
He turns then, offering Vyv's cup of coffee out. "Thanks, Google." Over his shoulder, shutting up the device so the two humans in the room can actually have a conversation. "If you do that," Cash starts, pausing to sip at his own coffee, "We'll never actually get to eat them, you know."

Vyv looks fairly amused by the toothpaste reminiscence, though it doesn't turn into an actual little smile until the kiss lures it out. "No, I can't say I do remember Crest's 2005 vintage vanilla-mint, but it must have been a remarkable one," he replies, taking the coffee, and stepping to lean up against the counter, still fairly near. A sip, and a quiet, "Mm. Thank you." For the coffee, or for shutting up Google. It's too early for robot women reciting the headlines. He takes a moment to look Cash over appreciatively, the length of a second and slightly longer sip, in fact, before asking, "Why not? Is there a prophecy regarding it I've missed? 'Lo, and on the dawn that the maître pâtissier rises to bake crescents in the house of the exquisite pilot, then shall there be the coming of final Armageddon'?"

That inspires outright laughter as he leans his hips back against the counter behind him. "I don't know that I've heard such a flattering prophecy." He says, reaching out with his free hand to pull Vyv closer by the hip. It's a soft encouragement, really - Though the bold type that comes with a certain amount of comfort with physical contact. Oh look, Vyv, you've become a habit.
"No, nothing so dramatic," He continues, "Though the drama does suit you," A smirk, "But if you wake up early to make croissants in my house, you're more likely to end up put on the counter, rather than doing anything productive." Is it the baking, specifically? The domestic image it paints? Maybe it's something else entirely, but Cash seems quite sure of this claim.

Vyv is entirely encouragable, and lets himself get encouraged right up against Cash, arms wrapping loose and lazy around the other man's neck. A certain amount of comfort there, as well, but there are surely worse habits they could form. It's unlikely to cause cancer, for example, or scare the horses. The note that the drama suits him gets a light smirk back and a slightly lifted brow, but it gains a different quality at the rest of the explanation.
"Are you trying to dissuade me or encourage me?" he asks, and lets one hand slip downward again, watching the slim fingers as they brush slowly across the scarred back of a shoulder, over the top and down to idly trace the first of that set of tattoos. "Proper croissant dough takes ages. You want to chill the initial dough overnight. And then you do the first set of lamination, and let it chill again for about half an hour. And the next, and the next…" His gaze flickers back up. "So I'd say your proposal could be quite a productive use of otherwise unused time. Have your croissants and eat them too."

"Well, in that case…" Cash answers, a purr on his voice that is most of what the unfinished sentence trails into. Setting his coffee aside (A sign that the 'new and exciting' factor has not worn off here), Cash wraps his arms around Vyv's waist with a small, crooked smile. He looks down, watching the trail of Vyv's fingers as they trace the lines of his ink. A moment later he leans in to press another kiss to Vyv's jaw, this one lingering, and followed by a twin no more than half an inch higher.
Taking a deep breath, he pulls back then, and though one arm stays in place, he takes up his coffee again. Drinks like it'll give him strength. "I suppose that means we should actually plan one of these evenings, then." He says then, though his voice is colored by the smile on his face. His gaze flickers over Vyv's shoulder toward the unopened mail on his table, but his focus returns less than a second later. Just plans for after they've had their coffee. Poor mail, keeps getting put off.

Vyv seems willing to let his coffee sit on the counter next to where Cash is leaning, for the moment. Some might consider that a compliment, since he's hardly even drunk any yet. Sacrifices are being made! His head tilts a little to welcome the kisses, eyes mostly closing, and when they retreat, he steals a quick kiss in return before allowing that pull back. Reclaiming an arm for his own coffee is at least a balm for this loss, though he drinks it a bit more slowly. "Well," he allows, "I suppose it would mean I could bring the proper butter, if we did. You'll just have to let me know when you're free." A small pause, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he adds, "Earlier than usual."

"That, my dear," Cash answers on a chuckle, "Would require the government to give me anything resembling a schedule. And as they're not even giving me a paycheck currently…" Shakes his head, "But I'll do my best." Seems to mean that, even if it's punctuated by him stealing another kiss, brief and playful, from Vyv. He considers returning to his coffee then, but it is instead set down again in favor of a series of swift kisses that are bright and delighted and come with Cash shifting to turn the pair of them so he can lean Vyv against the counter. And then he pulls away as quickly as he had leaned forward.
"You are terribly distracting, you know." Entirely without censure as he extracts himself to step away toward the table. The mail won't open itself, after all - Though it really was an act of willpower to opt for being a responsible adult.

The answer gets a light click of the tongue in that head-shaking pause, probably disapproval for the unreliability of the goverment rather than Cash, and though Vyv looks as though he might say something, it's easily preempted by the kiss. The ones that follow as well, his arm wrapping around Cash's neck again when he's (rather cooperatively) turned. This time the other arm keeps hold of his coffee, though, holding the cup off to the side and out of the way as he kisses back.
When the pilot pulls away, Vyv remains leaning back against the counter, taking a sip of the coffee as he watches the other man move. "Clearly not distracting enough, if you're going to go all the way over there," he complains mildly, but straightens up and follows toward the table as well. "It's ridiculous they expect you to show up without being paid," he says as he does, "Let alone do actual work. I wouldn't." Which is probably only one of many reasons Cash is in the military and Vyv is not.

"Plenty distracting, I promise. I set my coffee down for you and everything." Cash quips back, voice still colored by a grin. There are few statements more profound than that one. Laughing slightly, Cash takes up the first bit of mail. Some bill or other, nothing exciting, and it's more reflex as he opens it without looking.
"Yeah, well, I would rather not be staring down the barrel of a court martial." He says, though his tone is still amused, "And that's what deserting will get you." Another bit of mail. This one, though, he actually investigates. It's a slow progression as he reads. Vague focus leads him to slowly sit down as he continues to read, a small furrow forming between his brows.

"Well, it's silly," Vyv says, claiming a nearby bit of table-side to lean against, "If they're not holding up their bit of the deal why should you have to hold up yours? If we get invaded they can text." Another sip of coffee, watching the ceremonial opening of the mail somewhat absently. None of it's going to be for him, after all. But at least he has a nice view.
The view's reaction to that new piece of mail piques his curiosity, though, and his head tilts, brow gaining its very own furrow. "Unexpectedly high water bill? I suppose I oughtn't have helped you run it up."

"Well, you see," Cash says, "That logic requires that this be a relationship of equals. I'm sorry if I've ever given the impression that is the case - I am the government's bitch." Continues reading, that furrow growing deeper. "I…" He trails off, extending the vowel to an almost comical degree, "Think I need to call my CO." Manages to hold back a laugh. "There's been a clerical error." Puts the mail down, easily enough seen. Paperwork recognizing a marriage, and forms included for requests for housing, changes in salary, and identification.

"Mn. You see, this is why I'm self-employed," Vyv says a touch smugly, as though he hasn't spent a good part of the last decade in only slightly less unbalanced employment. Or possibly because he has. The curiosity increases as Cash continues reading with that expression, gaining what might even be a hint of concern by the time that laugh's held back. Which at least sets it back to just plain curiosity, for now. So it's nearly inevitable that when the paper's set down, he leans in to take a look. There's not the slightest attempt to be sneaky about it; if people didn't want him to look at things they wouldn't leave them where he can.
His brows go up at what the paper says it's about, one remaining there as he gives Cash a sidelong look. "I understand if people there aren't giving it their all without pay, but that's an impressive clerical error. I mean one could see a mix-up between John Smiths, but how many Cash Montgomery-Reagans can they have?" A glance down again, teasing peeking through the dryness as he half-corrects, half-inquires, "Emmet Cash Montgomery-Reagan?"

The comment about self employment earns a good-natured roll of Cash's eyes as he pulls his phone from his pocket. Goes about making that aforementioned phone call, then. Though, of course, ends up on hold. His phone is held between shoulder and ear lazily. That use of that name, however, makes Cash actually cringe and visibly recoil. Snatching the papers away, he realizes halfway through the motion that it's a childish reaction and attempts to play it off like he's hunting for some piece of information stored therein. It's not a well produced act. He keeps it up stubbornly, however, even as he sighs over the tinny-echoey sound of brass band hold music.
"Yes, that would be my legal name. I hate it. It's not a family name, only my mother uses it, and I've been known to break noses when it is used." He says, sounding as though it is a rote speech, though he's purposefully softened his tone for it.

Vyv does not look particularly remorseful for using it, despite catching that reaction. It's an interesting reaction. But, given that he actually likes the man, it gets a small nod. "It's not that bad," he says, "…but Cash is better. Good thing they gave you a middle name you like better. I briefly considered trying that at school, but as my middle name's Oscar it didn't seem likely to improve matters much." It could almost look like an apology, if one squinted hard enough. Almost.
He takes another drink of the coffee, glancing lazily toward those forms again, and idly pushing a couple to see what the pages not on top might hold. "Have you broken many noses, then? I'm fairly sure everything I've broken for people was inanimate." The forms look so… official.

"It is that bad. I promise." Cash asserts, "But that is true - I am thankful for my proper name." Doesn't even refer to it as his middle name anymore - He's been using it for as long as he can remember, after all. "Though, I like your name - Even if I can absolutely see how it would have been a nightmare in the schoolyard." Just the thought is a little bit cringeworthy. The lack of apology doesn't seem to actually faze him.
"A fair few." He says with a shrug and a small laugh, "Anapolis has its ups and downs like that." The hold music ends, and Cash turns to speak into the phone while Vyv investigates the forms. So official. Crisply, cleanly official. This conversation, though? Not even a little.
"Hey Jax, it's Montgomery, you'll not believe what I got in the mail this morning. Apparently someone up in your office thinks I'm married." A long pause, more furrowing brows. "No. I'm not. Really, after Haley you thought…?" More pausing. "No, Jax. I'm definitely not married. I don't know who came into work drunk but you should probably knock heads."

"I'm fond enough of it these days," Vyv replies, with a half-smile toward Cash, and then he's idly poking papers again. Another good drink of his coffee, and he pauses a moment, eyeing the forms. Slipping into the abandoned chair, he actually sets the cup down and spreads the papers out to look at them more closely, the last page in particular eased out and moved to the top. It looks like a more-complete form.
Usually, he probably wouldn't interrupt during that phone call, but those fingers slide lightly over the page, settling just below the date, tapping once, and drifting further to tap and stop on the listed location, as well. "…Cash," he says slowly, something odd in the tone, "Are you quite sure everything that happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas?"

"Seriously? No. I am not coming in to…" Cash's tone is edging closer to actually angry as he speaks, though there is obvious effort put into keeping himself civil. He does answer to this guy after all. There's a heavy sigh, and Cash leans a hip against the table as he pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"No, I understand that, but why in the hell would I…" Which is when Vyv interrupts and Cash looks up and over to him, raising a brow. Hand falling away from his face, he leans over to look at this paper. The date and location make him pause, the sound of his CO's voice a low echo coming from the phone. No longer listening to his phone call, Cash picks up the paper, and rather than inspect the top with date and location details, it's the bottom he stares out - It's not an excellent scan of the form, but it's good enough that he can tell that the signature on the bottom is, in fact, his own.
"Oh… Fuck." He mutters, though probably loud enough that he'll be heard over the phone. And then, without thinking, without looking away from this paper, he pulls his phone away from his ear and just hangs up. That'll be taken out of his hide later, but right now he doesn't care.

Vyv watches the examination and reaction, and looks unusually nonplussed. He can probably be excused, considering. "I was going to ask if there was much chance your friends thought it would be clever to send in false paperwork as a sort of prank," he says after a moment, "but I have the impression that's rather unlikely, then."
His body decides to go for normality while his mind decides what it thinks about this, an arm reaching to reclaim his coffee and draw it closer. "…So. You don't remember anything, mm?" A pause, and then rather suddenly, "How can one possibly be drunk enough to think marrying some random woman sounds like a brilliant plan and sober enough to actually manage it at the same time?" Incredulous is apparently what's going to win first, here, with a small side-order of vexed.

"Sadly, uh, no…" Cash says, putting the paper back down on the table, "That's my signature - No two ways about it. So if this is a prank it's a really serious one." Honestly, he's still staring at the thing. With the expression on his face, he's obviously as confused about this order of operations as Vyv is. As for his own coffee, it is left entirely forgotten and unappreciated, put aside in favor of total perplexion.
"I… Honestly, I don't know." Cash says, voice quieter, almost breathless as he shakes his head. "I knew I'd slept with someone. I woke up with my jacket missing and a pair of contacts on the bedside table - But that wasn't terribly surprising and I hadn't really thought about it." Now he is though. "Last thing I really remember was leaving my poker table. It was basically all a blur of liquor and cards and lights at that point. But we do receive some pretty ridiculous training on how to remain functional even when drugged or dealing with chemical warfare so that might have something to do with it."

"That does sound like rather ridiculous training." It's a lot dryer than the training might've been… not that Vyv can't see the use of it for other situations. They just don't matter right now.
His attention moves back from Cash to the paper, fingers tapping against the mug as his gaze moves over the page again. "'Katya'." A puff of a breath out his nose, somewhere on the outskirts of whatever zipcode contains laughs. "I suppose she did." He gives Cash some fairly high-quality side-eye. "This is why I keep swearing off bi men, you know." Because they wander off and randomly marry Russian-named women in Vegas!

"I'm going to have to get the annulled. There's no way this would hold water in court - I was much too drunk." He says, half to himself. Cash is too deep in the forest of 'what the fuck did I do' to laugh at that pun, but there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth that hints that he at least caught it. It even inspires him to shake his head again. Sighing heavily, Cash pulls a hand through his hair and then tears his gaze away from the paper to look at Vyv. One brow raises, his turn for incredulous. "Do they regularly run off and get married in Vegas on you?" He asks, though there's no censure in his tone.

"Mn, no, they don't usually go that far. I think you may have set a record." Vyv actually does sip his coffee again then, which might be a good sign. Or might just be for effect. The way the tension in his shoulders ebbs slightly at the mention of anulling it is almost certainly not affected, on the other hand. "You'd think they wouldn't allow it in the first place," he says, "but, yes. That sounds like the logical course, getting it annulled." He looks up to Cash again, arching a brow. "For one thing, I'm far too old to be messing about with married men. Anymore." A hand leaves the cup, fingers briefly brushing against the small of the man's back before they return.

"Not exactly the kind of record I would hope to set…" Cash says, but this time there is the slightest hint of a laugh in his tone. There's not much for this situation other than laughing at it - It was utterly ridiculous, after all. That small touch gets a very small smile from the Marine, and he takes a deep breath that is obviously him calming down the slightest bit.
"Yes, wouldn't want to turn you into a homewrecker." He says, obviously joking, as he takes a seat at the table and reaches to stack the papers again and return them to their envelope. He can deal with that nonsense later. "Doesn't suit you." There's a tone there that definitely edges solidly into the realm of 'fondness.'

"No? Mm, I suppose. 'Irresistable homme fatal' does have its appeal, though…" Vyv eyes the papers again, and as they're being moved, suddenly reaches out and puts his hand on one to halt it in place. "…Katya Larsen," he reads again quietly, brow furrowing. "That sounds a bit familiar. It's such an odd combination." These things stick in the mind, somewhere, even if they aren't always inclined to cooperate with their other details. He lets the paper go, then, taking a longer, more thoughtful sip of his coffee. "You'll have to find her, I suppose," he says, "and get it sorted." He looks toward the other man's face again. "What will you do if she objects? Though I suppose if she remembered, she'd likely have come looking herself… How long do you think you'd not have known if you'd not sent in this paperwork?" He's still not completely sanguine about this, to a close eye; there's still some tension, at the least.

"I think you've got that one pretty much covered already. Just without the homewrecking." Cash says with a small smile. He's definitely not relaxed entirely yet, but he's better off than he was two minutes ago when he was snapping at his CO and looking like he might hit something. When Vyv reaches for the papers, Cash pauses, allowing him to look as he likes, and then nodding. "If you happen to remember where you know that name from, let me know. Finding her probably won't be awful, but you never know."
The next makes him shrug. "Honestly, the paperwork hadn't been filed and reported, I could have failed to know about this indefinitely. Likely." He answers, though there's a tone that is most definitely contrite, "As for if she objects, annullment doesn't have to be an agreement. I just have to prove I was too inebriated to be legally capable of giving informed consent. Which, as I don't remember it and this is obviously behavior that is starkly out of character for me, I shouldn't have too much trouble with." Why does he know this much about annullment? Who knows.

This is clearly a question that crosses Vyv's mind as well, since it gets another arched brow. "You are quite sure this is out of character, mm? That's rather more about annullments than I know." A tiny pause before he grants, "Though I suppose I can't say I've had much reason to look into the technicalities of marriagey things, particularly over here. On the other hand, that still rather suggests you have." It's one of those times where it's fairly difficult to discern how much might be teasing, and how much not.

"Yeah, fair cop." Cash says with a laugh and a shake of his head, "I've never done anything like this before, though. Swear. My cousin just got into some shit a few years back and I had to help her get out of it before her dad unhinged his jaw." A simple explanation, confident, and calm enough to seem pretty truthful. "I have been married before - But I was married for almost twelve years, and you knew about that." He adds with a shrug, "Hadn't even slept with anybody else until after my divorce proceedings started."

"Mm. Quick study," Vyv replies to that last addition, that corner of his mouth twitching upward for the first time in a while. Compliment or criticism? You decide! "Can't say I'm surprised," he adds, which is at least more clearly to the compliment side. "At least your cousin's trouble's serving some good. Was she entirely wasted too? Is this hereditary?" Okay, that one's at least three-quarters teasing.
A small pause, and then a blink. "Katya," he says, setting down the cup. "There can't be that many of them in Calaveras, surely." He leans back a little, to look at Cash more directly. "Katherine's doing a television show she's asked me to be a guest on. One of her co-hosts is a Katya. Katya, she mentioned, is a bartender at the Alibi." A small pause. "We could ask Katherine her surname, see if that connects." His expression goes slightly more impish, "Or I could just go get a drink and investigate. 'This is a lovely martini, miss; do you think it's the sort of thing one might get drunk enough on to marry a stranger in Vegas?'"

There is a tiny blush that rises along the high points of his cheekbones, though he tries to hide it behind actually returning to his coffee. "She was - But if it is I'm pretty sure it's from the side of her family that I'm not related to. She's the only one of my relatives that's ever done anything like this. Most of my family is, well," A beat, "Very serious."
Cash quiets and listens, eventually nodding. "That's a convenient coincidence. If investigating will amuse you, by all means. Otherwise, I'll just see if I can't run into her down there some time. I probably should contact her before filing any paperwork." He shakes his head, sighing a little, "Good God I am an idiot. My mother is going to kill me."

"Yes." Would one like to be assured that wasn't stupid? Wrong audience. "I mean, really, Cash, Vegas?" Vyv sounds as disapproving of the venue as the event. Just wait until more details come out! But there, is, at least, still that hint of amusement. "I can't imagine she's likely to be thrilled, no. Not a woman who's losing pieces of the family china over your sartorial crimes against humanity, or at least the portions of humanity watching you move house. How's she going to find out, though? Will the military have sent something to your family, as well? Or are you proposing to tell her?" The vehemence of that initial 'yes' could still be revised upward, if need be.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Cash says with a sigh, though it's an accepting rather than dismissing tone. This was colossally stupid, and he's really not trying to sidestep the due consequences. Eventually, though, he laughs again and shakes his head. "No, they won't send her anything - But my mother hears everything. The military community talks, especially in the South, and with my father being who he is…" A shrug, "I highly doubt she won't hear about it through the grapevine."

"So does that mean she's likely to call you at some point to make her displeasure known?" Vyv asks, returning to drinking his coffee as well. Wouldn't want it to get cold. "I hope I'm there. Can I convince you to put it on speakerphone if I promise to keep my mouth shut?" He gives Cash an almost-innocent look, which doesn't particularly suit him. "I could comfort you afterward. Appropriate first-aid. Or possibly attempt resurrection if you're right about the magnitude. How long do you think it'll take for her to hear?" Really, it's a shock he doesn't have potential friends just beating down his door, sometimes.

This idea has him drain his cup of coffee all in one before he answers. Even when that's done, he considers silently for a moment. "If I have any control over when it happens, then fine, but you have to be silent. I think if she called me to yell about my shaming the family name and then… Well, it would just be bad. I might actually get disowned at that point." Shudders a little at the thought, though this false-innocence is enough to earn a small, indulgent smile. Maybe other people would be miffed by this reaction, Cash seems to take it in stride well enough. "If I'm lucky, a couple of months, but I think it's more likely it'll be a couple of weeks - If not just later this week. She keeps an ear to the ground."

The fact that Cash is actually willing to entertain this gets a shift at the corner of Vyv's mouth that looks for a moment as though it might be in danger of reaching entire-smile territory. It doesn't quite at the lips, though it gets close — they stay closed, but the curve's nearly complete. The eyes, though, get there entirely, the earlier impish look tempered by something that's just charmed. He watches for a breath, then leans over to press a kiss to Cash's cheekbone, right about where that tiny blush before ended. "I promise," he says, as he settles back again, "Not a peep." He doesn't drain his own coffee, but it is getting close to done, and closer after that next drink.

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