"What are we supposed to do round here?" Dom asked, looking around with a frown on his face.

Elijah didn't respond right away. He seemed to be wondering the same thing. "I don't know." A pause. "Sight see?"

"It's 10 below." Dom gestured out the window, realized the curtains were drawn, and flung them open with dramatic precision. "<i>And</i> it's snowing."

Elijah shrugged, his face stoic. "It's atmospheric."

Dom dramatically flopped onto one of the neatly made Queen sized beds. "I don't know what possessed you to want to film a movie in Canada---in <i>January</i>. And then ask me to come along. It was much warmer in LA. I'm not used to this chill in my bones."

"It's only for two weeks." Elijah rolled his eyes. "In my defense, I thought this script was really good, and I didn't care that we were filming in Canada, in January. I also figured I'd be on the set everyday and wouldn't need an itinerary.

"But I do!"

"I can get you a part in the movie, if that's what's bothering you."

"No, that isn't. On your one day off, we're stuck in this hotel, looking out the bloody window. THAT is what's bothering me."

"Watch television," Elijah suggested, digging through his bag, and bringing a script out from its depths.

"It's all in French," Dom complained, pouting.

Elijah laughed. "It is not."

Dom turned onto his side and watched as Elijah put his glasses on and carefully began reading a few lines off the first page of the hefty script. "I don't want to watch the telly all day. I want to DO something."

"Go down to the pub, then."

"Won't you come with me?"

"I should work on my lines. Wanna help? You could play the part of Sarah."

"No, thanks," Dom muttered, standing up to look out the window again. "I hate Toronto."

"You wouldn't in the summer." He flipped a page of script. "There's a shoe museum."

Dom spun around, looking confused and curious at the same time. "There's a what?"

"A shoe museum. It's got famous people's shoes on display. They've got Phil Collins, you could go see how big his foot is in comparison to yours." Elijah looked up, saw Dom's face full of disbelief, and shrugged. "Just a suggestion."

"Aren't there any shops?"

"Of course there are," Elijah replied, laughing and taking his glasses off; he set them on top of the script and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he'd been struggling with his glasses for more than just five minutes.

Dom's eyes widened. "Is there a Canadian version of Rodeo Drive?"

Elijah thought for a moment, his eyes drifting towards the window, and then back to Dom. "I don't know. Maybe. Not much you can do in the snow, anyway."

Dom looked back to the window, struck by the reality that it was still snowing steadily. His face was contorted in a frown like no other. "Oh, bugger."

"We can go downstairs and get something to eat."

As if on cue, Dom's stomach let out a huge growl; Dom patted it fondly. "Good idea."

The two of them made their way through the basically vacant hotel, and settled themselves at a booth in the back of the restaurant. After they ordered enough food for a small hobbit army, from a purple haired woman named Viv, who winked a lot, Elijah settled back in his seat. "I read this morning that they do same sex marriages here."

"Do them?" Dom mimicked humorously. "Can't you articulate it better than that?"

"Not on an empty stomach. You're missing the point, Dom. If you're so bored, why don't we just get married? It'll at least kill a few hours before dinner."

Dom blinked. "We're not dating. Come to that, we're not even gay."

"I know," Elijah retorted. "But wouldn't that be a fun story for the tabloids?"

"No," Dom deadpanned. "It wouldn't."

Elijah sighed, looking deflated. The food arrived then and they both dug into it like they hadn't eaten in weeks.

"I was only trying to think of something fun for you to do today," Elijah stated, sounding wounded.

"I appreciate that, Lij, but I don't think marriage is quite what I'm looking for."

Elijah took a huge bite out of his burger. "Okay. French television it is."

Dom nodded and took a drink from his beer; suddenly, he became serious. "Did you just propose to me a minute ago?"

"Not very well, but yes." Elijah chewed uncaringly on a fry.

Dom laughed. "I think Canada's really getting to you."

"You as well," Elijah replied morbidly. "There was a moment there when you were comtemplating saying yes."

"No way."

"Yes, way. Just admit it. You wouldn't mind marrying me."

"Of course I wouldn't mind," Dom chuckled. "You're my best friend." He paused, chewing on a few fries. "Okay. What the hell. You only live once, yeah?"

Elijah slowly set his glass down, looking surprised. "Are you accepting my proposal?"

"Looks like it." Dom clinked his glass to Elijah's and slugged the rest down his throat.

"Do we kiss now or something?"

"No idea."

"Maybe we should watch more gay couples."

Dom made a face. "Why? Just because we're getting married, doesn't mean we have to...you know...be married."

"Then what the hell does it mean?"

"That we share bills, and stuff."

Elijah scowled. "You have a dented vision of married life, Dominic."

"I do not, Elijah. I just don't know what gay marriage entails." He pointed a fry at him. "And neither do you."

"Be that as it may, I'm willing to learn."

"We're not gay!" Dom's voice was full of levity, and he was doing all he could not to double over with repressed laughter.

"I know that. I don't think it should stop us from celebrating the fact that we're heterosexual life-mates."

Dom raised an eyebrow. "Have you been snorting coke on the sly?"

"Nope."

"What the hell, then?"

Elijah shrugged, "Just bored."

"Well, let's get out of here, then, and get ourselves married."

"WOOT!" Elijah cried, throwing his arms in the air. "We can be like Britney and her, um, what was it, 24 hours?"

"I don't remember, but that's a good idea." Dom thought for a moment. "We might get more press, though, since we're of the same sex."

"Yeah, and not gay. I wonder if that's ever happened before?"

Dom laid some money on the table and stood up. "Dunno. Come on, wife."

"I don't want to be the wife."

"Too bad. I already deemed you the wife."

Elijah stood up and followed him out, looking cross. "Dammit, Dom. It was my idea in the first place."

"Exactly my point."

"Are you saying it's always the woman's idea to get married?" Dom didn't say anything, but made an affirmative type face that only sent Elijah into more of a tizzy. "That's so sexist."

"Where is this place where we can get married?" Dom asked, looking around; they had just gotten outside.

"I don't know," Elijah answered heatedly; he pointed right. "Try that way."

Dom turned the corner, Elijah followed. "Why do you care, anyway?" Dom questioned about a block later. "You're not a woman."

"I can be affronted for them," Elijah said huffily, crossing his arms. "I haven't got a coat on."

"Neither have I," Dom replied stonily. "It's brass monkey stuff out here."

"Let's go back, then."

"What about our marriage?"

"We can get married tomorrow."

"But you wanted to today."

"I didn't say specifically today, Dom. I just thought it'd be a good project for the day."

"Let's ask this woman up here where we can get married."

"Better not. Canadians spot non-Canadians a mile away."

Dom rolled his eyes. "Elijah. Please."

"I'm serious. Why can't we just go in here? It looks official. Sort of like a city hall type place."

"Okay." Dom pushed the door open to the large building and looked around.

"Over there." Elijah pointed across the way at a desk. "Marriage licenses."

Dom nodded and strutted over to the man behind the desk. "We�re not really gay, but we�re bored, and we'd like to be married."

"You've come to the right place, eh?" The man replied, nicely enough; he gave them an appraising look that suggested he�d gotten this sort of thing before. He handed them a stack of papers, instructed them with instructions, and sent them over to some uncomfortable looking chairs.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dom asked, hovering his hand over where he was supposed to sign.

Elijah shrugged. "Might as well. We've got nothing better to do."

Dom took a deep breath and jabbed his pen at the dotted line. "Here goes nothing."

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