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“I‘m home,” he said to himself, even though he heard Alex in the living room. Two weeks had passed since he had found the ring: Alex was simple in the practical way, simple enough to figure out, and not very big on the jewelry department, so he had picked a simple, thin platinum band with a small, inlaid diamond. Very simple but still elegant, not something he’d spent an awful amount of money on and something that wouldn’t be in the way. Now he just had to find the right time to ask, which meant coming home was nerve-wrecking each time.
Of course, she wouldn’t be happy with the ring, but he doubted she would be happy with anything surrounding these things. He walked into the living room and saw her sitting on the sofa, both legs curled under her, with the TV on in the background. She was wearing her glasses and her hair was let out, falling in large curls around her face and over her shoulders. She wore a simple tank-top and sweat pants, and the crutch was leaned again the sofa, meaning she had been in pain today.
He made his way around the back of the sofa and sat down next to her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders, and began rubbing. It felt like the right thing to do right now. She barely reacted to him, except for a small, contented sigh. After a few minutes, she put down the book and leaned back, removing her glasses as she did so, and placing her head against his chest. He took the opportunity and wrapped his arms gently around her.
“Bad day?” he asked softly, breathing her in as he did. She sighed again. “No worse then normal,” she said with a slight frown. He kissed the top of her head, and she rolled her eyes at him. After four years, you’d think she would have gotten used to him and his romantic ideas, but in a way he was glad she wasn’t. She looked so cute when she rolled her eyes or frowned at him. It was just part of who she was, her merely putting up with affection. Besides, he was lucky, because neither of them liked public displays of affection, unless you counted Alex’ exhibitionistic kink for public sex. That thought bought a coy smile to his lips.
Her hair smelled of vanilla, a smell he’d grown accustomed to in the years passed, and a smell he was convinced he would always love but would also forever remind him of Alex. Her hand reached up and stroked his cheek and he studied it, the long, nimble fingers, thin hand connecting to slim wrists, pale enough to light up the dark. He teased her about that sometimes, though Jess did it a lot more, mostly because both of them were naturally darker-skinned, the girl being half-Greek on her father’s side and Tony being Italian.
He took her hand in one of his, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers, her palm, her wrist. Her arm was long and slim, and even though she had to switch from field work to science due to an accident at work a few years ago she hadn’t let herself lose her fitness. He traced the contours of the muscles with his other hand, the side of her torso, her abdomen, down along her right leg. She was irresistibly beautiful and she had been so since the first time he saw her. He had been so stuck in his own head (a**) back then he’d tried to ignore her, but she had stubbornly forced herself into his life by terrorizing him in his office whenever she got bored during her shifts, laying down across his desk studying him working, always curious, always luring him to talk. Later, she had confessed to finding him attractive and wanting to sleep with him for a long time before it actually happened, and he had just been so ignorant he’d pretended he didn’t feel anything more then respect for her as a coworker. He had been good at ignoring his feelings back then.
And here he was. Five years ago he would never have thought he could be close to anyone, let alone a woman, again. He had lost so much in the past. But she had broken through, and he could love her for that alone. But there was so much to love her for, he thought as she turned to her side to watch the TV. First off the obvious things - her intelligence, her passion, her courage, her beauty - both inner and outer - and her strength. Then the more odd things he loved about her - her stubbornness, how quickly she turned to rage, how quickly that rage fumed out into a grouchy pout that could be cured by a hug and a kiss. The way she kissed, with passion, with her whole body. She didn’t waste time on pecks or small kisses, she only kissed when she meant it, and then it was with the same burning passion that she took on for everything she wanted to do in life. He remembered the first time they kissed, and it was fire and thunderstorms and vanilla chapstick and he had never, ever wanted it to end.
He played with her hair, thoughtlessly letting the curls caress his fingers. Shortly after they had started dating, she had cut off all her lion’s mane, but she had let it grow back out and he was glad for it. She had been beautiful with short hair, but the way her hair curled softly was unforgivably gorgeous.
“You are unforgivably gorgeous,” he mumbled against her hair, kissing the top of her head again. She snorted and rolled her eyes again, but the corner of her lip curled upward in a smile. “Watching TV here, silly,” she answered, but moments later she pushed herself up with one arm and kissed him.
Whenever she caught him off guard in this way, she left him breathless. This was, of course, something he would never admit to, because it was incredibly girly, but he couldn’t deny it to himself. So when she broke the kiss off a few minutes later and returned her attention to the TV, he was trying hard to get control over his breathing again because she was on his chest and would surely notice him forgetting to breathe because of her. If she knew, she didn’t say anything, though a smirk clad her lips.
He pulled her back to him and spun her around so he was above her. No matter how fit she was, he could carry her with one hand, so it was never hard to flip her over. She looked a little surprised, but didn’t say anything as he leaned down to continue the kissing. He always avoided leaning on her, because of her injury and because he was more then twice her weight, even though she always pushed his arms out of balance so he would, quote, “crush against her”.
And, as always, she grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him down. When he didn’t comply, and instead pulled up, she followed, arching her back so their lips wouldn’t part, and wrapped her legs around his hips to keep her body against his. Then he leaned down again, leaving her lips for her jaw line, trailing to her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still, and he could feel her heartbeat against his lips.
She moaned softly as his hand trailed the side of her body, carefully avoiding the areas he so well knew she wanted him to touch. Driving her insane was half the fun. But that was for later - now, he had more important things to take care of.
He wrapped his arms around her and sat up. She was in his lap now, and she took it as incentive, but he gently pulled her away and wrapped his arms around her. “Alex,” he mumbled against her neck, breathing in her, her scent, her everything. “Uh-huh?” she answered, pulling away slightly and looking him in the eyes. Her eyes, thin, bright, green toward the yellowish with orange tinges, framed with dark lashes. She looked surprised, slightly confused - did his face expose him so much?
Clearing his throat, he tried to smile and thought he did a pretty decent job. Terror kicked back in and started eating at his gut. “Al, I love you. You know that, right?” That came out so wrong, he could tell by the look on her face, now suspicion marked with fear. “Yeah..?” she said hesitantly. A slight frown creased her brow.
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Relax, not like that. I just, well. I‘m getting old, you know, and it‘s time for something new in my life.” Again, he had to slap himself mentally. Completely wrong thing to say. “What I mean is,” he continued before she could react properly, holding on to her tighter so she couldn‘t scoot off of him. “Is that I‘m ready for the next phase in my life. In both our lives. I‘m 32 and you‘re heading toward 30. We’ve been together for what, five years soon? I‘m ready to settle down now.” He shuffled around a little so he could reach the box in his pocket. “Are you ready too?”
He handed her the box and she stared at it, her face blank or at least unreadable. After a minute that felt like an eternity of empty staring, he sighed with a smile and opened the box. She stared at it for another minute, then her eyes found his again and the emotion in them changed to one he recognized all too well - rage.
But then she did something that surprised him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She bit her lower lip for a moment. Then she started laughing. Not just a small, soft giggle - she was laughing so hard her entire body was shaking, and if it weren’t for him holding her she would probably have fallen to the floor. She laughed so she could hardly breathe any more, and still she kept laughing. There was a maniacal pitch to her laughter at moments.
Tony felt frightened. This was not a reaction he would have expected, and it was not a reaction he was used seeing. In fact, he had never seen her laugh like this. At a loss for what to do, he loosened his grip of her arms slightly, and he was sure his face showed exactly how clueless he was. He wasn’t sure how long it took, but eventually she ran out of laughter (and breath) and seemed to calm down.
She looked him in the eyes again, smiling wide. “You‘re ******** joking right?” she asked, her voice raspy and a little hoarse. Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, then he felt like a gold fish and he looked away. Alex pulled one arm loose and punched him in the shoulder. “You gotta be ******** joking me,” she said again, still with humor but the slight desperation in her voice and the crazy glint in her eyes told him something else was behind it all.
The only way to do this was to stand his ground. “No, Allie,” he said gravely. He knew she meant no real harm by acting this way, that she was probably freaking out, but he felt a sting inside nonetheless. “I‘m serious. Do you need me to go down on my knees to prove that? ‘Cause I will.” He started to push her off to do just that, but she pushed him back down and put her arms on each side of him.
“Tony,” she said softly, her eyes darker now. “I don‘t know what to say. I‘m not-”
“You‘re as ready as you‘ll ever be, Al. It‘s now or never,” he sighed slightly, “If not for you then for me. I want to move on, move forward, and I think it‘s time for commitment.” He paused, feeling another sting in his chest. Rejection? Don’t be silly, he told himself. She isn’t doing this because she doesn’t care, she’s doing it because she’s afraid.
He pulled her close. “What are you afraid of?” he whispered to her hair, and he felt her shoulders jerk slightly. “It‘s just me and you.”
They sat like that for a long time. Alex didn’t answer his question, and she said nothing at all. He felt her breathing hitch unevenly at times, but only ever so slightly. Tony had said everything he could say. He wouldn’t start an argument about this, because that wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be like.
His parents said it had been easy for them. His dad said that he asked and she said yes and that was it, they got married eight months later. Boom, just like that, easy. He had known it wouldn’t be easy with Alex, she was stubborn and he knew she was afraid of commitment, afraid of labels, afraid of becoming too attached. What that really meant was still a mystery, since they had lived together for years. How could marriage mean they would be more attached to each other?
She had grown up without a father, and she had seen many men come and go in her mother’s life. Many bad men, men who hurt her and her mother in ways she wouldn’t describe to him. As an adult, she had followed that trend, inviting bad men into her life as well, and she had probably hurt herself and her daughter in the same way her mother had. Alex had always been strong, and she had gotten herself out of that life without help. She was a proud woman, and Tony, as well as many others, often described her as a lioness. Fierce, proud and strong.
Somehow, he wished he could explain and convey why it was so important to him, getting engaged and getting married. In part, it was probably in his background. His parents were both fairly religious and conventional, and they liked traditions. Tony had abandoned them, running away to join the army when he was eighteen, because he thought they were too strict and because of the death of his brother when he was fifteen, something the entire family hadn’t gotten over by the time Tony reached adulthood. Alex had made him contact them again a few years earlier.
Alex, meanwhile, had grown up with only her mother, who had gotten pregnant at fourteen. In a way, they had only had each other all their lives. When Alex was nineteen, she had given birth to her daughter, Jess, and it had been the three Jones girls for a few years. Suzanne, Alex mother, had died not long after Alex had started dating Tony, and ever since then she had felt a strong urge to make sure everyone took care of their family, at the same time as probably shying away from extending her own.
“Fine,” Alex said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. “Fine what?” he asked, momentarily confused by the change. She sighed the way she did when she was defeated in an argument. “Fine, I‘ll put on that stupid ring.” Straightening up, she sounded like a grumpy child, complete with crossing her arms and glaring (though only half-heartedly) at him.
It took him a few moments to register this. “You‘ll… You‘ll marry me?” he asked slowly, unsure if smiling would be taking out his happiness too soon. She sighed again. “We‘ll take that some other time. For now, I‘ll just agree to wearing that… thing.” She took it out of the box and put it on herself. To his relief, and her dismay, it fit perfectly. “Ugh. You just had to pick the ugliest thing you could find,” she muttered in a growling way, rolling her eyes. Back to herself again.
Having been taken away the pleasure of putting the ring on her finger, he took her hand and kissed her fingers instead. “No matter what ring I‘d have picked you‘d still say it was ugly, my love,” he mumbled, and she smacked him over the head. “Hey! No one gave you permission to turn into a soppy schmuck just because there‘s a ring on my finger!”
He chuckled and kissed her fingers again. “Well, that‘s my ring on your finger, so I‘d think that gives me a few more rights then a few minutes ago.” He pulled her closer and kissed her neck and shoulder lightly. She growled and muttered something like about how it should give him less rights, but he interrupted her with a smothering kiss, and that was the end of conversation for a while.
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