( #002 ) FAKE MARRIED AU

[chatona]

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

Comments

abbie mills | sleepy hollow

[prophetia]

our usernames don't actually match but they still make me happy

[parepochism]

[ If one treated it like the numerous other various and sundry undercover missions they'd happened to participate in over the course of the war, then it wasn't so bad. Thinking of it at least in those terms had reduced the manner in which it felt skin tinglingly close to being at the home of one of his father's friends once again, words flying here and there and smiles painted on faces in an almost mockery of the fine art and portraiture hanging on the walls. As horrible as war had been, at least it had been for a purpose. A purpose he could understand, could get behind. The motivations behind his former life's so-called 'high-society' had always been a rather different beast altogether.

(Which wasn't strictly true. Both machines were built to gain power, in whatever manner they could. The simple difference was that one was far more upfront about it, and when you commit an act of betrayal in a war you get the kind of reaction that, in his mind, you should probably still receive even if you just do it to your friend. More's his sin for having committed both.)

Their calling this time - 'mission', 'case', what-have-you - had actually led them outside Sleepy Hollow: a bit further south towards the actual city of New York. It had taken a little bit of self-control not to marvel at the sheer size of the looming city ahead - far bigger than the last time he recalled having seen it, and of course he'd seen pictures but really, they never compared - but they had stopped at the home of a Mr. and Mrs. Clairidge before reaching it.

If the valet seemed surprised to see Lt. Mills be the one to step out of the driver's seat, the young man knew well enough not to comment. Ichabod in turn smoothed out the borrowed jacket from where it had crinkled slightly in the car ride and moved to offer her his arm. Certain aspects of these sorts of things were familiar and easy.

Others. Well, they would be familiar.

They had a few moments of relative privacy before they actually made it up the ridiculous walkway to the door proper, the stiff cardstock of the invitation something Ichabod could still feel in his breast pocket. ] While I understand the importance of this particular course of action, I cannot say that I wouldn't have preferred a somewhat more direct approach to uncovering this particular mystery. [ Although. ] Your current versions of men's formalwear are somehow both clearly derivative of those I'm familiar with and feel entirely different at the same time.