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In the end, they elope as quietly as they got together.
Between Ransom’s grueling school schedule in Boston and Holster’s rigorous training and game schedule in Seattle, they barely get time to talk in the same time-zone, let alone see each other.
So when Shitty decides that the only acceptable location for his and Lardo’s pre-wedding celebration (fuck the mourning of bachelordom, bro - I’m marrying the love of my life!) is Vegas, Ransom decides he’s done waiting.
He’s checked and re-checked his excel, and, barring any major injury (or Ransom somehow failing to get placed for his residency), there’s not likely to be any “good” time for he and Holster to tie the knot in the next five years.
Ransom’s a patient guy if he can see how his patience will pay off. He’s chosen to be a doctor for goodness sake. But, as far as he can tell, the only thing waiting for the “right time” will do is guarantee him a lavish wedding. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t really want to be subjected to the festival that his sister’s wedding had become. He just wants –
To be Adam’s emergency contact
To share communal property
To have
To hold
To cherish
In the end, they sneak off like it’s just another kegster at the Haus they haven’t lived in for four years.
He wraps a hand around Holster’s wrist in their age old signal, and makes his way through the crowd. The gang – larger now that there are a few law school buddies and art gallery friends – are all caught up on the dance floor. No one even notices as they dash out of the club into the desert night.
Holster pulls him to a halt, tugging until Ransom turns to face him.
Damn.
“Alright, sap,” Holster grins, clearly reading the adoration in Justin’s eyes. “The crowd getting to be too much?”
“No – Well, yes. But, no – that’s not why I wanted to get out of there.”
Holster cocks a curious brow above his black-rimmed glasses.
“I just want to marry you,” Justin says. Quiet. Forthright.
“Oh, good! Shit, bro, I thought I was gonna have to convince you. I’ve been checking the excel and thought you were gonna wait.”
“Bruh, no. I just - I want all the strings attached with you that I can get. And I want them now, you know. Let’s get married.”
Adam sweeps him up into a crushing hug. Justin sort of wishes he could get closer.
“Gah! Justin Bartholomew Oluransi, you have the best ideas.”
“That’s not my name.”
“Let go get married!”
In the end, they keep the change in their relationship to themselves for a while.
It’s like it always is and always will be with them: just for them.
It’s fun getting to revel in being Justin Oluransi-Birkholtz without having to deal with congratulations. It’s nice to soak up being married to Adam Birkholtz without having to answer questions (How will you two make it work? How will you deal with the distance? What’ll happen when you get placed for your residency? What’ll you do if you don’t get in at Seattle?).
“How long do you think it’ll take them to notice this time?”
Holster runs his hand up Ransom’s back. Ransom savors the skin on skin contact while he can.
‘”I don’t know, Ransypoo. Hoping we can make it until Shitty’s and Lardo’s big day, though. I don’t want to steal their thunder.”
“Agreed.”
In the end, they are as they’ve always been: together, committed, forever.