I only called you into my office because I wanted to talk to you. I'd become smitten from a distance. I wanted an excuse to have a conversation with you, and get to know you better. Or at all. That's when we discovered that we both liked Woody Allen. Over the next few days, I kept calling you to my office for more 'meetings.' Things became…physical, very quickly. We both kept it a secret, due to the conflict of interest. But then, I finally decided I didn't want to keep our love hidden anymore. So I asked you out to dinner with me. Shortly after that, you quit your job and moved into my apartment." He looked up, smiling slightly. "So, that's the story of us."
"Your alternate universe doppelganger is very aggressive," I said. "Did I have any say in the matter at all?"
He looked mildly offended. "Of course," he said. "What kind of fictional man do you think I am?"
I had to laugh. "All right, okay. What if the ask me if I knew about your…you know, predicament?"
"Of course I told you, because I didn't want you to think I was only marrying you for that. You were skeptical at first, of course, but as time went on, you realized that I genuinely loved you."
"That's very touching. Do you think they'll fall for it?"
"There's no law against marrying someone if you're at risk of being deported. What's illegal is marrying someone because you're at risk of being deported. It's all right for them to be suspicious that we might have rushed into things because of my situation, as long as they can't prove that was the only reason we got married."
"That sounds incredibly dodgy, just so you know. If I worked for the INS I'd be driving you across the border myself."
"Your vote of confidence is much appreciated," he said dryly, flipping the page in his notebook. "But I told you, I have inside help. I have to go through the formalities, and I have to not trip over my own feet while doing so. They're even going to make a special exception for me. Normally, it would take two years of marriage before I could apply for a permanent visa, but they've reduced it to one."
"Thank God," I said out loud, without thinking.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "I realize you have no way of knowing this, but I promise being married to me won't be an actual nightmare."
I could feel my face turning bright red. "I know," I said, hastily. "I didn't mean…it's just, you know, a year of my life. That's scary enough to think about."
"Relax. I'm teasing you." He glanced down at his notepad again. "We need to pick a favorite sexual position."
I stared. "Is that a comment, or a question?"
"Just pick one," he said, still looking down at the paper.
"Uh, fine," I said. "Doggystyle? Is there like…a scientific term for that? Or something classier?"
"I don't think so," he muttered, scribbling something down.
"I hope you're actually writing down 'doggystyle' then," I said, willing myself to stop blushing furiously, even if there appeared to be no imminent danger of him raising his head.
I was wrong - he looked up at me then, frowning. "I'm not writing any of this down," he said, sharply. "And neither will you."
"Jesus." I raised both of my hands. "Do you see me taking notes?"
"I'm sorry." He toyed with his own pen for a moment. "I just…I can't emphasize how important it is that we don't have a written record of any of this. I'm taking notes that will help remind me of what we decide here, but no one else would be able to interpret them. Even so, I won't let this notebook out of my sight."
"I know," I said. "Believe me, I don't want to end up in prison for criminal conspiracy."
He chuckled. "Someone's been researching."
"I just wanted to know what the worst case scenario was. It's comforting."
"Let's not borrow trouble. It won't come to that if we're careful." He cleared his throat. "All right. They're very likely to ask about what kind of birth control we use, are you on anything I should know about?"
I shook my head. None of my relationships had
"Your alternate universe doppelganger is very aggressive," I said. "Did I have any say in the matter at all?"
He looked mildly offended. "Of course," he said. "What kind of fictional man do you think I am?"
I had to laugh. "All right, okay. What if the ask me if I knew about your…you know, predicament?"
"Of course I told you, because I didn't want you to think I was only marrying you for that. You were skeptical at first, of course, but as time went on, you realized that I genuinely loved you."
"That's very touching. Do you think they'll fall for it?"
"There's no law against marrying someone if you're at risk of being deported. What's illegal is marrying someone because you're at risk of being deported. It's all right for them to be suspicious that we might have rushed into things because of my situation, as long as they can't prove that was the only reason we got married."
"That sounds incredibly dodgy, just so you know. If I worked for the INS I'd be driving you across the border myself."
"Your vote of confidence is much appreciated," he said dryly, flipping the page in his notebook. "But I told you, I have inside help. I have to go through the formalities, and I have to not trip over my own feet while doing so. They're even going to make a special exception for me. Normally, it would take two years of marriage before I could apply for a permanent visa, but they've reduced it to one."
"Thank God," I said out loud, without thinking.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "I realize you have no way of knowing this, but I promise being married to me won't be an actual nightmare."
I could feel my face turning bright red. "I know," I said, hastily. "I didn't mean…it's just, you know, a year of my life. That's scary enough to think about."
"Relax. I'm teasing you." He glanced down at his notepad again. "We need to pick a favorite sexual position."
I stared. "Is that a comment, or a question?"
"Just pick one," he said, still looking down at the paper.
"Uh, fine," I said. "Doggystyle? Is there like…a scientific term for that? Or something classier?"
"I don't think so," he muttered, scribbling something down.
"I hope you're actually writing down 'doggystyle' then," I said, willing myself to stop blushing furiously, even if there appeared to be no imminent danger of him raising his head.
I was wrong - he looked up at me then, frowning. "I'm not writing any of this down," he said, sharply. "And neither will you."
"Jesus." I raised both of my hands. "Do you see me taking notes?"
"I'm sorry." He toyed with his own pen for a moment. "I just…I can't emphasize how important it is that we don't have a written record of any of this. I'm taking notes that will help remind me of what we decide here, but no one else would be able to interpret them. Even so, I won't let this notebook out of my sight."
"I know," I said. "Believe me, I don't want to end up in prison for criminal conspiracy."
He chuckled. "Someone's been researching."
"I just wanted to know what the worst case scenario was. It's comforting."
"Let's not borrow trouble. It won't come to that if we're careful." He cleared his throat. "All right. They're very likely to ask about what kind of birth control we use, are you on anything I should know about?"
I shook my head. None of my relationships had
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