#its perf tysm for replying bc ive been wanting to write out this plot idea for so long!!

[fallingsohard]

harlan opens his mouth to protest, a simple "i can get us that money and more in about an hour" about to fall from his lips, but he refrains when he hears what nicky has to say. he knew him way too well, it was so convenient yet incredibly frustrating at times. still, a laugh falls from his lips the more he keeps talking. "our honeymoon? nicky, we’re in a run down diner, sitting in potentially the stickiest booth mankind has yet to see, we're hungover as hell... that's not a honeymoon, it's a fever dream." he shoots back, though his tone is far from angry. if anything, he sounds pretty done with the situation at hand. unlike nicky, he isn't wearing sunglasses. mostly because he can't remember for the life of him where he left the ones he bought on this sporadic vacation, if you could call it that. maybe that's why he's so over everything, because the morning light peering in from the window feels like damn daggers behind his eyes. the brunette let's out a bewildered scoff, dramatic as always, but in his defense, he's italian, french and gay – being over the top is embedded in his dna at this point. "what the hell do you mean to me of all people? i'll have you know i'd be a fantastic husband, okay? i'd lie and steal for you if we needed it," he'd do it even if they didn't, "and i'd be loyal." that wasn't exactly fantastic behavior, more like the bare minimum, but he was going with it. "also, i've apologized for the christmas incident, like, five times. the floor was slippery and to this day, my back still hurts from time to time. what else am i supposed to do?" imagine a house filled with people on christmas eve, hungry, and when you're asked to help bring over the trays of food, you accidentally slip and spill every last glass tray on the counter towards the floor – every. freaking. tray. to be honest, harlan isn't sure how nicky still speaks to him to this day after that. it was so embarrassing and not to mention that everything was closed, so takeout was out of the question. people were hungry and angry and he couldn't really blame them.

deep down, harlan is painfully aware that there’s more to it, but maybe nicky is too kind to ever really admit it to him what he already knows. his surname has a reputation and not really in a good way. stealing, lying and manipulating were one of the many traits that ran in the fontaine household. his father did it his entire life to survive, whether it was fraudulent investments, scamming, identity theft or even fake charities. his mother was no different. harlan was taught a lot of their antics growing up, but despite that, he didn't want to be like his parents. he even bothered to go to school and get his cosmetology license, but every once in a while, if he had to pull a stunt, he'd do it. pick pocketing was mostly his specialty. it felt too easy to "accidentally" bump into someone then walk away with their wallet or whatever he could quickly swipe in the process, shake someone's hand while making direct eye contact and snatch their watch without them noticing. these were habits he wasn't proud of and tried not to do often if he could help it, but sometimes, he didn't have a choice. he's never pulled that with people he knows though. it was all done with strangers he'd walk past and most likely never see again. regardless, this doesn’t exactly save the surname he was tainted to carry. he wouldn't be shocked if nicky's grandmother hates him because of that and blames the christmas incident as a cover story. "yeah, well, says the guy who has the blue raspberry aka the second best flavor." he let's out a soft chuckle, eventually going quiet for a moment. harlan felt like he had to address the elephant in the room. "are we... okay?" the question he's been dreading to ask, yet, it had to be said. "i mean with everything that happened last night. i don't know, i just," he shrugs, moving the spoon from his uneaten grits, "i just don't want things to ever be awkward between us. we're still best friends. we were super drunk. now we're just... accidentally married. with ring pops." he takes a long pause. "we're still each other's ride or die, right?" his secretly insecure ego needed the reassurance from nicky more than anything.

“you think i don’t know that?” nicky hissed, head pounding from his own damn choices. he cursed under his breath in spanish, dragging a palm down his face. “we can’t get it annulled. i don’t have that kind of money right now. it’d cost, like, seven hundred bucks, and that’s if we file today—and don’t even think about pulling one of your schemes to get it. this is the legal system. i’m not spending our honeymoon bailing my husband out of jail.” he hadn’t even wanted to roll out of his hotel bed this morning. but his stomach had other plans, dragging him up and out, and now here they were. crammed into a sticky booth at some seedy 24-hour diner. all he could afford after throwing stacks of cash around the previous night. he hunched over a plate of pancakes, sunglasses on, the ridiculous blue raspberry ring pop glinting on his finger. the same one that sealed their mistake. the vegas trip had been his idea. a last minute, poorly thought out road trip for his 25th birthday. one he was supposed to take at 21, but thanks to quarantine and a global pandemic, it got shelved. now, five years later, he’d tried to make up for it by club-hopping and downing way too many free drinks from strangers way too eager to celebrate a stranger’s birthday. he knew his alcohol tolerance was low. didn’t matter. nothing had stopped him last night. he wished it had. “my abuela will literally drop dead if she finds out her grandson got hitched in vegas by some party city elvis impersonator—to you, no less,” he added, jabbing his fork into his pancakes. “she still hates you for the christmas incident.” he took another bite. “you’re ungrateful,” he added after a beat, gesturing toward harlan’s hand. “sour cherry is the best. apple is ass.”