"Hey," Vivian greeted her, to a "hey" in return and a hand brushing her waist as she passed. Larkin opened the fridge, grabbed the last can of Sprite, and cracked it open as she announced, "That guy at work was going on about-" Hand wave. "-liberals and gay marriage and the fabric of society again." She sipped her drink, seemingly unperturbed by her recounting. "Starting to think we should get married just to shove it in 'is face."

Still stirring the pasta, Vivian turned her way. For a second she was at a loss for words, mouth slightly agape, then, "...I'm NOT getting married to spite your bigoted coworker!"

"Boo. You're no fun." And with that she headed for the den, missing the frown and lingering look at her back.

-----

The next day Larkin came home to find Vivian curled up on the couch, ignoring the TV in favor of the phone in her hand. She promptly plopped down next to her and settled in, chin coming to rest on Vivian's shoulder, and eyed the screen. She recognized the columns of photos as Pinterest (Vivian had one, she didn't), but this time it wasn't Instagram models in the latest fashion, cute cats, or hipstery shots of cityscapes. Instead it was...

"Why're you lookin' at wedding dresses?"

Vivian lifted her chin and replied loftily, "Because it's a free country."

She straightened to get a better look at her, a knowing smile starting to form. She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Thought you didn't want all that."

"Well I don't want it for Steve." But the rebuke was playful.

She leaned in again and gave the photo a considering look. "Guess I'd wanna wear a tux, then," she mused.

"Or a dress, too," Vivian was quick to add. "Or I wear the tux." She smiled. "We're gay, babe. It gives us the power to do whatever we want, and people just have t' go along with it."

She huffed at that, eyes falling back to the phone and the dress Vivian had last clicked. "Well, I like that one. For you." A simple white gown with bare shoulders and delicate sleeves.