For the past five years, Valentine’s Day had meant absolutely nothing.
Important holidays had registered on some level, at least, but anything that reminded him of what he’d lost was viewed with scorn and derision, or had been, until he’d learned how to numb the entire world away. In the later years, when things were bad, he turned to booze, pills, and the edge of a knife to forget; needless to say, he hadn’t been buying flowers or chocolate hearts or jewelry for anyone during the time they spent apart. He suspected her holidays had been similarly spent, and so, just like Christmas, Luke had every intention of making their first Valentine’s together in years something extra special. Planning for the day was a good distraction from everything else that had been going on in their lives, things that would be pushed aside for one night; Gotham, death, and Thierry, for starters. None of that mattered, not once the 14th rolled around. It was about them, and their relationship, and outside troubles had no place in either. Maybe it would even stick, focusing on the good over the bad. He knew they still had trouble balancing the two, despite their best efforts, but as always he was still determined to try, more so now than ever before. Maybe it was just how he worked, but all the rough spots and bumps made him think about things he couldn’t stand to lose; Wren, Gus, and the family they were building bit by bit. No matter how scared she might be, he knew he would never, ever change his mind about them, or any of it, and looking down the line into the future just made him all the more certain that she was always going to be in his life. More importantly, he wanted her to be.
Yeah, it was probably the cheesiest, most overdone holiday in the world, but it was also appropriate. There was always going to be an excuse; not enough money, complications with Gotham or friends or whatever other trouble came their way. He’d said he wanted to wait for the right time, and he did, but he realized that he’d made a mistake in assuming that the right time would just fall into his lap out of nowhere. It was like how he’d hesitated in making a move back when they were teenagers, always holding back, assuming that something would happen, when in the end he had been the one who needed to make it happen instead of relying on outside circumstances to do it for him. Luke second guessed himself a million times, but he kept it to himself, not even telling Jack, who was arguably his closest friend, or Evie, who’d just make him even more nervous. No, he played this one pretty close to the chest, and maybe it had something to do with a tiny, tiny fear that she might say no, and if she did it would be a lot easier to not have to explain that to a handful of people.
Reservations were made, a ring was bought (after countless hours and a layaway plan), and he took Gus with him to pick out flowers the day before. For a four year old, girls were still icky, but he giggled all the same as Luke tried to explain Valentine’s Day and why he was taking Mommy out for dinner, and why they wouldn’t be home until the next day. From a financial standpoint, he couldn’t really afford most of it, but working at Caesars for years came with some perks and for the rest, well, that was what loans and savings--what was left of them, at least--were for, right? Besides, they’d be fine once he finally graduated from the Academy and got on the force. He was all but guaranteed a job thanks to Max; he just had to make it through that final stretch.
The flowers he chose were unconventional, but there was a single red rose woven in, and Gus had insisted that the monkey be included too. Luke hadn’t worn a suit in years either, but he had occasion to wear one now, since Eiffel Tower Restaurant had a dress code they were sort of strict about adhering to. And despite all his planning, funnily enough, once they were actually out and surrounded by other couples, candlelight and piano music and low, intimate chatter setting the mood, he realized he hadn’t picked a when. He just knew, at some point that night, he was going to ask, but maybe that was enough.
He was nervous, and he was terrified, but he hid it all behind smiles and laughter and managed to resist the urge to polish off an entire bottle of wine by himself, which was something, right? Right.
For the past five years, Valentine's day had been like all those other holidays Wren pretended didn't exist.
Some years, the really bad ones, it was easier than others. Some years, the quiet ones since she'd blackmailed herself a place in Las Vegas, had been harder. It was a different kind of a sadness than, say, Christmas. Christmas had, before Luke and Seattle, meant nothing really to her, but it made her miss her maman something terrible, even before Luke had become the center of her world. Christmas always felt like family to her, like the family she'd missed out on when she was small, and the family she'd had for a split second, for one year in Seattle, and then like all the years she'd missed with Gus and Luke after. But Valentine's was different. Valentine's wasn't even a holiday she associated with Luke. They'd had two of them together. One, they hadn't actually been together, as much as she'd wanted them to be. And that Valentine's day had made her run off to Las Vegas for months, only to find her way back to that rainy city. And the second one, the second was New York, and things falling apart, and them trying so hard to hold it together, but not managing at all.
With Christmas, at least, she had something good to remember. With Valentine's day, she really didn't.
And so, there was a newness to all of this for her. To dressing up beforehand, while Luke finished a work shift, with Gus asking why none of her earrings looked like giraffes before picking a pair out for her. It was something she'd helped so many friends with back in Seattle, getting ready for this particular night. It made her think of MK, of the boy she'd lost, of the boy they'd all lost, in different ways. And she had to shake off the melancholy that followed with French music that Gus tried to sing along to, while mostly making up the words as he gave her his expert opinions on which heels went best with her dress.
And there was newness to what came after, too. Luke rarely dressed up, which meant she got to spend a very large portion of the beginning of the meal telling him how pretty he looked, because he did, and then agreeing that he looked handsome as well, because he did. Reservations and a place crowded with couples was something that was so foreign to their lives, that it took a little while for her to realize she didn't have to slip into escort mode, which is what nice dinners usually meant for her. He was right when he said they didn't do this often enough. In Seattle, Thomas had never wanted them seen together. And here, here life just never seemed to make time for it.
But the nervousness passed, and she was pretty sure it passed more quickly for her than for him. She blamed the place, the tie, and the formalness of it all for his own nervousness, and she thought it wonderfully endearing that he would put himself through it just to do something nice for her. "We should really go one day," she said of France, looking out the window at the amazing view, and motioning to the tower's beams, which were intentionally visible through the clear panes of glass. "Maybe when Gus is in college, and he's taken the zoo with him," she teased, and it was nice to actually assume things like that without feeling guilty anymore. It wasn't that she had any certainty that they would be together then, in fourteen years, but at least she didn't feel like it was a bad thing to dream about anymore.
She reached for what was left of her wineglass, and she took a long sip as she set her linen napkin on the table. Her fingers strayed to the leaves of the yellow flowers, and she gave him a questioning look, even as the table was cleared away. "Why yellow?" she asked, not recognizing the bloom.
She wasn’t entirely wrong in assuming that the formalness of everything played a part in his nervousness; places like this, and even dressing up, reminded him of how he once imagined his life would be, before things with Thomas fell apart, before he realized the life of a wealthy heir was little more than a dream which would inevitably have to end. But Luke didn’t want those memories, not tonight, and he shoved them deep, deep down to ensure they didn’t surface. No, the ring burning a hole in the pocket of his suit jacket was the main source of his nerves, and he felt like it must have been obvious, even though it really wasn’t. He thought she looked beautiful, and he told her so, and when she told him he was pretty he simply laughed and teased until he got her to admit that she was handsome too, which was progress. They didn’t do this often enough; not necessarily the fancy restaurant and equally fancy clothes, but just being together in public, going on dates like normal people did.
It was nice. Really, really nice, and as nervous as he was, like a teenager all over again, he was happy too, and he didn’t think he’d smiled this much in a while.
“Go?” He was puzzled until she gestured at the beams, and then it clicked. “Yeah, we should. And if Gus gives us any trouble about taking the zoo, we’ll just threaten to drag him along with us on our romantic getaway,” he grinned. It didn’t escape his notice that she’d alluded to them being together that far in the future, but he definitely wasn’t going to question it, especially considering how uncertain she’d been about their relationship in the past. Saying it, even if she didn’t fully believe it, was good enough. He considered asking for more wine as the table was cleared, but settled for finishing what was left instead, and if he drank it a little too quickly, well, she probably wouldn’t notice. “I didn’t pick them because of the color,” he explained, looking up when she asked. “They’re Wren flowers. Well, there’s this really long proper name I can’t pronounce, but it’s the Wren part that counts.” He drummed his fingertips against the tabletop for a few seconds, before reaching across to cover her hand with his, and for a moment he just looked at her without saying anything. “I hear it’s really nice up top,” he said, and somehow he managed to keep his nerves tucked away. “Or we can get dessert, if you want.”
"By then, he'll be so ready to get out of the house that he won't be able to stand it," she teased. She'd never had a parent to want to get away from at eighteen, but she knew he had, and she knew it was normal. "And then he'll remember he likes us when he's in his mid-twenties and needs a babysitter." It was such a simple thing, really, so normal, and yet it felt completely foreign on her lips. Even saying it, she felt like she might be cursing things, and the worries filtered in almost immediately. What if Gus never forgave her for losing him when he was little? What if he couldn't forgive her for leaving his father behind before he was born? What if he found out what she was, and what if he was ashamed of her? She glanced down at the wine glass, distracting herself with it for a moment before looking up again, refusing to let the what ifs drag her down, not after the month they'd just managed to barely survive. "But if we mentioned bringing him along on a romantic getaway, I'm sure he'd make a face and force us to promise never to even allude to having sex."
She hadn't known there were flowers that shared her name, and she smiled at him when he said why he'd chosen them. "You know, that's really, really romantic," she said, her grey eyes going brighter the longer she thought about it. Her fingers petted one of the leaves, even as his hand closed over hers, and she missed the drumming of his fingers on the table because she was trying to blink away the beginning of dampness from the corners of her eyes. "Gus picked the monkey," she said knowingly, finally looking back at him, just as he'd finished staring at her during that quiet spell. She tipped her head a little to the side, blonde hair tumbling along the bare skin of her upper arm as she looked at him questioningly, but then he asked his question about dessert, and she shook her head. "No, up top is good. Unless you want something?" she said of dessert. She worried her lip then, even as the waiter seemed to pick up on some non-verbal cue and come over to inquire. She let him answer, and she reached for the clutch she'd set aside as he did.
She pulled out a tiny felt pouch, small and black, and she didn't hide it as she weighed it in her palm. She could wait there for him to pay, she knew, but she didn't. And she could wait for him to have the flowers and bear sent along to their room, but she didn't do that either. She stood, and she gave him a teasing little smile as she thanked the waiter for pulling out her chair. "I'll be by the elevator," she told him, the concerns of the previous month ebbing a little as the evening went on, as she found her footing again and nudged aside the residual effects of the Lazarus Pit. And then she did precisely what she said she was going to do. Slowly, and with deliberate grace, she wove through the crowd and left the restaurant, coming to a stop beside the elevators that led to the top of the tower.
Wanting to get away from home at a certain age was just part of life, but for Luke, it was still a sore spot; a combination of the circumstances and what had happened afterward, never getting the chance to go back, meant that he had to try just a little harder to laugh about it than most people would. He didn’t want it to be like that for Gus, something angry instead of the natural teenage inclination to set out on their own. Maybe he was just overthinking it, though, and maybe his situation had just been unlucky; he and his parents would have reconciled, he knew they would have, if it hadn’t been for the accident, and Gus wasn’t going to have a Thomas in his life. No, he was sure of that much. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle the years between him getting away and realizing he likes us? We’d have a lot of time to ourselves,” he teased, unaware of the doubts that passed through her mind when she thought of the future. He wouldn’t have been surprised to know of them, though. “I don’t know if I could promise that. The look on his face would be too much to pass up,” he added with a laugh.
He beamed at her when she said the flowers were romantic, boyish and bright and nothing at all of the dark cloud that had lingered over them during the past month or so. “I know,” he told her, with feigned assuredness, and he gave her fingers a quick squeeze when he noticed a telltale sheen in the corner of her eyes. “Yeah, Gus picked the monkey. He insisted on it, actually.” It had the little boy all over it, and he was almost relieved that the prospect of dessert-or not dessert--served as a distraction, since that questioning gaze of hers was only going to make his nerves worse and might even have coaxed out a blush, depending on whether or not she’d followed it up with an actual question. When the waiter approached Luke shook his head, declining anything else politely, and asked for the bill, even as she reached for her clutch and the felt pouch within.
His gaze was drawn upward when she stood, and he blinked at her for a few moments before nodding, not quite understanding that teasing smile but liking it all the same. “Okay,” he agreed, a little belatedly, watching--or staring, depending on one’s perspective--as she left the restaurant. He let out a long exhale, admittedly a little relieved to have a few moments to himself, and he had the flowers and monkey sent up to their room after he paid the bill. As for the elevator ride up, Luke had already ensured they wouldn’t have to wait in line in advance, even if that had cost him a little extra on the side; it was worth it, to make sure everything went right for her. He came up behind her in a mock attempt to be stealthy, but the effect was ruined when he slid his arms around her waist to pull her against him. “Hey,” he said against her ear, giving a quick, hopefully subtle nod to the attendant who appeared; they didn’t need a tour guide, thanks.
"I don't know," she said of dealing with the potential years between college and Gus returning. "You might have to work really, really hard to keep me distracted," she said, and it wasn't really a lie. She hoped none of the things she feared came to pass, but she knew that life wasn't a smooth road. Their lives had been more bumps than road, really, and while she hoped that might change, she didn't expect it to. When it was all said and done, she'd messed up very badly with Gus, and she'd messed up very badly with Luke, and she knew she would have to face it eventually. Luke might have forgiven her, but that didn't mean Gus wouldn't have problems with it someday. But that day wasn't now, and that was what she needed to keep reminding herself. Her maman had always told her not to borrow trouble, and she'd always been so very bad at that, but she was trying. His teasing laugh and refusal to promise not to embarrass Gus when he was older, that successfully dragged her away from her morbid thoughts, and she gave him a knowing little look. "You'd blush more than he would," she said knowingly. She laughed at his feigned assuredness, and the laugh was almost as bright as it could be. But her expression turned instantly fond when he said the little boy had insisted on the monkey, and she touched her fingertips to the earrings that dangled from her ears. "He helped me pick my earrings, and he was very disappointed I didn't have giraffes," she informed Luke seriously of Gus' conundrum.
She waited by the elevator, watching him through the crowd of people in the restaurant with the kind of adoring attention she always reserved for when she didn't think she was being noticed. She watched groups get led onto the elevator, and she shook her head and didn't catch the attendant's look, as if he already knew she wouldn't be getting on with the others. She was too caught up in watching Luke for a few minutes and, when she lost sight of him, she turned to the windows and watched the traffic on the strip below, all harmless lights and the soothing fountain across the street. She caught a hint of his reflection before his arms slid around her waist, but she didn't turn. Instead, she leaned back against him, and she sighed quietly, her hand coming up, fingers brushing against his wrist, just below the cuff of his suit jacket. "Hi," she whispered, turning her head enough to press a kiss to his jaw, and missing the nod to the attendant entirely. "They just sent a group up," she said of elevator, eventually, expecting that they would have to wait for another group before they could go up themselves, unaware of the arrangements he'd made, and in no hurry at all.
She turned in his arms, and she tucked the small clutch she carried into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, her fingers lingering beneath the jacket, over the shirt, much longer than they actually needed to in quiet intimacy. Her lips parted the slightest bit, before she looked up and smiled, and then she tipped the tiny pouch open, onto her palm. It was a quick thing, a tiny movement, and then she was stretching up and slipping the chain and pendant over his head, letting the pendant (which had come home to us engraved on the back) rest against her palm for a second before loosening his tie and tucking it away, against warm skin. She had given him pendants before, back in Seattle, but those were inexpensive things that would tarnish and break. "I went looking for good presents for new police officers, and that was what most people suggested," she admitted. People, in this case, meant worrying wives and girlfriends and sisters and mothers. She smoothed her hand over his chest. "Promise you won't take it off?"
“So I have my work cut out for me, huh?” He pretended to think about the prospect of trying really, really hard before grinning. “I think I can handle that. I like challenges.” Whatever future they had together wasn’t going to be easy, Luke knew that, but nothing in their lives had been easy for a long time, and they were still here. In the end, they always managed to stay together, even if they did spend a week or two apart, and he thought that spoke volumes about the strength of their relationship. Gus was still too young to understand the circumstances of his birth, and how he had ended up with the Johnsons in the first place, but that would come later, and he just hoped that their son would understand. He had to understand. Despite their mistakes, he and Wren had only ever tried to do what was best. Besides, they had years and years to make up for lost time. Hopefully by the time he was older, Gus’ first four years would be nothing more than a very distant memory. “I would blush,” he admitted, of embarrassing their son, “but it’d still be worth it. Besides, aren’t parents supposed to embarrass their kids? Even when they are all grown up.” It was strange to think that Gus would one day be their age, but it was hard to focus on when thinking of him now, just a little boy with messy hair who didn’t understand why his mother wasn’t wearing giraffe earrings. “You’d look beautiful in giraffe earrings,” he said, struggling to stifle his laughter. “I can see why he was disappointed.”
There was a time when affection in general made him awkward and shy, never mind public affection, but that time was long in the past, and now he didn’t care at all about who saw what. If anything, he wanted the world to know that he was with her, that they were together, in a way Thomas had forbidden all those years ago in Seattle. Never again would he hide their relationship, not for anything or anyone. “Did they?” His arms tightened around her at the kiss to his jaw, just for a moment, and he didn’t sound all that concerned about apparently having to wait for the elevator. He looked down at her when she turned, a smile starting, but when she slipped her clutch into his suit jacket his breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat, nerves making his head swim before he realized that the ring was in the other pocket and the relief came flooding forward. He could breathe again, and he smiled, hoping she hadn’t noticed that temporary little hiccup.
He wasn’t expecting her to have gotten him anything, and so when she stretched to slip the chain over his head, there was no shortage of confusion to be found in his expression, but then he realized what it was and what she was doing and all of that melted away. “You didn’t have to,” he began, before she started explaining the pendant’s significance, and he went quiet as he lifted it from his skin to look at it properly. First the front, then he turned it over, and god, the engraving made him pause for a long moment to swallow the lump in his throat and compose himself. “I’ll never take it off,” he vowed, tucking it back away and running his fingers along her jaw. “I promise.” He leaned in for a kiss, slow and warm, before pulling back and glancing towards the elevator. “You know, I think we can go up whenever we want,” he said with mock thoughtfulness, and as if on cue, the attendant nodded. “Whenever you’re ready, sir.” Oh, yeah, this was going to be worth the extra money-- he hoped.
“You always have an unfair advantage because you’re so pretty,” she said quietly, smile and tease and her voice soft, soft. “So you don’t have your work cut out for you as much as you should.” And she liked that grin. She liked it when his newfound confidence shone through. It was something that belonged to the man, and not to the boy he had been. These days, she thought of him as being much more hers than she had back then. It was a strange thing, really, because she’d always assumed the opposite. During all those years apart, she’d thought he could never be more hers than he had been in Seattle, and she’d been so very sure that he would never, ever be hers again, not in any real way, not at all. It was hard to give him a teasing smile when he said he liked challenges, because she didn’t want to challenge him at all just then. Just then, she wanted to wrap herself around him, to give herself over, easy and without reservation. But she forced herself to stay still and grounded, to give him an enigmatic little smile, to play the game. “I don’t know,” she asked of parents embarrassing their children. “I think so,” she added, though he was the one with all the experience to call upon there. Her maman had been a little girl, and not a maman at all. His assurance that she would look beautiful in giraffe earring stole the dark clouds away, and she laughed a quiet laugh. “You can get me some for my birthday,” she told him; fully expecting that he would actually manage – somehow – to find giraffe earrings.
She hummed a little sound of agreement about the people in the elevator, too lost in the way his arms tightened around her to think anything of it. And when he tensed a moment later, she attributed it to her hands on his body, and not to any fear about what was in his suit pocket. The temporary hiccup was entirely misinterpreted, and she just ran her hands over his stomach, smoothing the fabric of his shirt before tugging the suit jacket closed again. The touch was possessive, claiming, and nothing hidden for the sake of other people. Normally, she worried at least a little about not being too blatant with him in public, but it had been such a long month, and she gave herself permission to touch whenever she wanted, despite being completely sober, despite not being able to blame it on too much wine.
When he told her she didn’t have to get him anything, she silenced him with fingers to his lips. “You did all this for me, and I’m allowed to get you something,” she told him, because she was pretty sure he would have been happier at home, with the house to themselves, and no pressure from formal restaurants or suit jackets. “You gave up a naked night at home for me,” she teased, even as her expression turned visibly grateful when he promised to keep the charm on. When he kissed her, she tried to keep him against her longer, fingers tugging on his tie for a second, pulling it loose of his jacket altogether. But her gaze followed his to the elevator a second later, and she gave the attendant a confused little look when the man nodded and opened the elevator doors for them. She only hesitated for a second before stepping inside the opulent elevator, panes of glass all around and a breathtaking view. She tugged on Luke’s fingers, pulling him after her, and she glanced out the front window as the elevator began to move. “Did he just like us, or did you sell your soul to get us the elevator all to ourselves?” she asked over her shoulder.
“You know, usually I’d tell you that I’m not pretty, but if it gives me an unfair advantage I guess I can let it slide just this once,” he teased, all warmth and fondness. In his mind, he’d always been hers, just as she’d always been his; even though he’d spent a long time thinking he would never see her again, he hadn’t managed to let her go. Finding her again had been like something out of a dream, and the fact that she hadn’t found anyone else, that she’d still wanted him... sometimes, if he thought about it long enough, he still had trouble believing it was true. All the anger he’d harbored was another one of those hard to believe things, since now he couldn’t imagine ever hating her, or even wanting to. He almost said something about his own parents embarrassing him as a kid, but those memories were still raw, and he didn’t want to go there, not tonight. Instead he just laughed when she told him he could get giraffe earrings for her birthday, because she knew as well as he did that now he would. “Gus would never let you take them off, you know.” Then again, by that point Gus likely would have found another animal to become obsessed with.
He sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity might be listening that she hadn’t noticed anything, and frankly, Luke didn’t care what she attributed his tenseness to so long as it wasn’t the truth. The feel of her hands on him distracted him from his relief, though, and brought him back to the moment. Her fingers on his lips made him smile, for more than one reason, but he adopted an expression of feigned surprised when she teased him about what he’d given up in exchange for all this. “Wait, you mean I don’t get a naked night once we’re back at the hotel?” He was loathe to pull away, but her confusion kind of made it worth it, at least for a few seconds; he liked knowing that he’d managed to surprise her. When she tugged on his fingers, he followed, and the attendant smiled before the doors closed and the elevator started to move. “What can I say? I just have a way with people,” he teased, his hands finding her hips in order to turn her to face him. He pulled her with him as he backed up into the edge of the elevator, not minding in the slightest that he was missing the view, and kissed her again, starting off with an open-mouthed press of lips to something deeper as an arm went around her waist to keep her close.
"It always gives you an unfair advantage," she said of his looks, and she laughed when he said Gus would never let her take the giraffe earrings off. "People will talk. You'll get a reputation for having the crazy girlfriend that always wears the same giraffe earrings. We'll be a neighborhood anomaly," she teased, and it felt really nice, teasing. It felt nice not thinking about what they'd lost, who hadn't made it, the problems with Gotham and all the rest. Right then, she could even think past the bit of fuzziness that was still prevalent in her mind, and she laughed when he asked about getting naked back at the hotel. "I don't know," she teased, grey eyes bright for the first time in the past month. "You might have to earn it. I don't know if you've managed it yet." Which was countered by the adoring expression on her face when she looked at him. As for him having a way with people, that earned him a curious look. Oh, she knew he had strings he could pull, old connections from Caesars and friends from the academy, but an elevator seemed like a specific thing to call in favors for.
But that all ceased to matter when his hands found her hips, and she let him turn her without any resistance. "Hi," she said, as he backed up, just before he kissed her, and her hands slid up along the lapels of the suit jacket, until they found purchase at his shoulders. When he deepened the kiss, she leaned into him more fully, crowding him and not caring that she was going to rumple his suit, or that it would look really bad if the elevator doors opened. Her mouth left his a second later, and she brushed her lips against his jaw with a sigh, back and forth, a whimper and movement against his skin, as opposed to an actual kiss. Her fingers slid higher, to the sides of his throat, and then down again, where they plucked impatiently at the fabric at his upper arms. "You look beautiful in this, but I really want to take it off," she said, lips just below his ear, and a kiss following the whispered admission. "Promise me I can, later," she said, impatient fingers sliding back down to the suit's buttons and tugging them loose of their buttonholes, even if she intended to let him keep it on. Or, well, at least to try. "Hi," she repeated, pulling back just enough to look at him, lips kiss swollen and eyes the tiniest bit unfocused and she looked up from his mouth.
“I don’t mind being a neighborhood anomaly,” he protested. “At least we’ll be memorable, right? And I’d be proud to be known as the guy with the crazy giraffe-earring wearing girlfriend. Who else would be able to say that?” Falling back on this sort of carefree teasing had always been a practised skill, but now it felt genuine, rather than forced, and for Luke there was little better than emotion that didn’t come with the need to pretend. The brightness in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed, and he wished he could capture it, somehow, for the next time they needed a little reminder that everything would be okay. “I might have to earn it?” He raised his eyebrows. “You’d better not be doubting that I can, if I have to,” he added, and he simply flashed a grin in response to her curious look. Nerves aside, the anticipation felt sort of good, and he liked keeping her on her toes.
The elevator doors could have opened right then and there, and he wouldn’t have cared. No, when she leaned into him he forgot everything else entirely except for her, and the feel of her body against his, and the taste of her under his mouth. He was reluctant to break the kiss, more so than before, and made a quiet sound of protest when she pulled back to brush her lips against his jaw. “That’s funny,” he whispered, his breathing gone a little heavier, “I really want you to take it off too.” It took a lot of self control he didn’t quite have to keep his hands from straying, but he did let his gaze move over her, lingering in places, moving from head to toe and back again. “I promise you can take this off later, if you promise me I can get that dress off however I want,” he told her, and he was only half-teasing. He ran his thumb over her lip when she looked up, unable to resist, and the familiar greeting made him smile. “Hi,” he echoed, looking at her for a few seconds before continuing. “I got you something else too, you know. Other than the flowers, and the monkey, and dinner.” No sooner had the words left his mouth that the elevator doors opened, and he stole a quick kiss before entwining his hands with hers and tugging her out onto the observation deck.
They weren’t alone, of course, but there was some space that wasn’t occupied and offered some privacy, even if it wasn’t a lot.
"I think I'd rather be memorable for being that couple that can't keep their hands off each other," she said truthfully, and it did feel nice to laugh. There was a momentary pang of guilt, something that reminded her there were a million reasons why she shouldn't be laughing, but she intentionally shoved them all away. If they didn't start learning how to carve time out for themselves, then it was all going to fall apart, and she didn't want that to happen. She knew that her grip on sanity wasn't all that strong these days, and she knew that was something she needed to work on too, on being okay. But right now, all that mattered was that she wanted to smile, and the smile that carried in his voice when he teased her was genuine too; she could tell. The look she gave him when he raised his eyebrows was all challenge and grey eyes gone warm. "I'm not sure. I think sometimes I make it easy on you," she said of him earning it. "Maybe I should make it harder, for your own good," she added helpfully.
But all that was lost in the kiss, and his whisper and heavy breathing when she brushed her lips against his jaw made her want more. It took all the willpower she had to keep from just pushing the jacket off his shoulders, and she couldn't quite keep herself from loosening his tie a little when she freed the suit buttons. "If you keep looking at me like that, we aren't going to get a chance to see the view at all," she told him truthfully, voice going all whisper and want, and her body crowding his as much as she could, soft and curves and her feet between his. "You can do whatever you want with the dress, beau," she promised as he brushed his thumb over her lip, and she let her tongue dart out and brush against his thumb before he echoed her greeting back at her. She dipped her head a little to the side, pale blonde fanning her cheek, and her smile a combination of shyness that she hadn't quite lost entirely, combined with a very raw sense of want. She was going to ask him if he would take her back to the room instead, and if he would remind her that they were both alive and safe, but he told her he'd gotten her something else before she managed, and her expression shifted to something questioning a second later.
"Luke-" she stammered after that quick kiss, ready to tell him that all of this was more than enough, but he was tugging her out into the Vegas night, and she had to admit that the sight did take her breath away. They always saw this city from down low, never like this, high up where it was nothing but lights and quiet. And even with the people around, it still felt like they were the only people in the world somehow. She paused for a few very long seconds, and then she sought out one of the quiet spaces, a darker corner, and she turned the tables and tugged him toward it, until she was leaning back against the metal beams, her back to the view and the city below. "I'd rather look at you," she admitted, letting go of his hand and using his lapels to tug him closer.
“We’re not already known as the couple who can’t keep their hands off each other?” Luke gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence, doing his best to keep from smiling and breaking the illusion. Like her, he too had his moments of guilt, but wallowing in the misery of loss and suffering wasn’t going to change anything in their lives. A lot of people in their lives had problems, yeah, and the aftermath of Gotham’s virus was still being felt, but they couldn’t stop living their own lives because of it. Otherwise, they’d both go insane. Remembering that there was still good, even now, and keeping their relationship strong, were important. “I don’t think you should make it harder on me, for the record,” he protested, but it got harder to tease when she was so close, and he was having a hard time thinking about anything other than getting her out of that dress. “I’d get to see another view, though,” he said, swallowing down a groan when she moved closer. Focus. He had to focus. He tugged on the hem of her dress, just once, before he managed to breathe properly again, and he distracted himself by focusing on the way she looked at him, questioning, which was easier.
The night air made it easier to focus, too, and if he hadn’t been so nervous he probably would have even found it in him to enjoy the view. As it was, though, he barely even noticed, too focused on her and trying to figure out what the hell he was going to say while her back was turned. He’d tried to plan something out in advance, but it hadn’t worked very well, mostly because he kept changing it up every time he thought about it. Then she was tugging him towards a quiet, darker corner, jerking him out of his inner turmoil, and he found it difficult to focus all over again when she pulled him closer. “I’d rather look at you too,” he admitted, “but I-- there’s something-- I need to tell you something. Sort of. Just-- just listen for a couple of minutes, okay?”
"No. We're the weird people who moved into the neighborhood before Christmas. We're a little too young to have a four-year-old, and we work really strange hours and disappear for days at a time," she said, trying to make it sound really mysterious, even as she fought with the smile that wanted to blossom on her lips. "And they think you're really handsome, and a little adorable, and they're trying to figure out who's going to be brave enough to talk to you while you're walking Finch. They want to know, too, if you can be tempted. I'm keeping an eye on all of them," she concluded, "all while I make it harder for you." And that swallowed down groan, along with his mention of seeing another view, it made it so hard for her to lead him to that dark space overlooking the city. When he said he'd rather look at her too, that solidified her plan to tempt him into leaving sooner, rather than later, and her fingers tugged on the end of his tie, using it to tug him closer yet, where he was all warm and solid against her, and so very different from the way he'd felt when they were young. "You grew up really nicely, Luke Henry," she told him, and she wanted him to tug on the hem of her dress again; she almost tried to find a way to coax him into it.
But then he said he needed to tell her something, and her expression immediately turned worried. It was too many bad things, and too many things that started with that phrase, and she wanted to cover his mouth with her fingers and never let him say anything ever again. But that passed just a second later, because maybe it wasn't bad? He wouldn't bring her all the way up here to tell her something bad. She forced herself to breathe, slow and deep, and she whimpered just a touch as she leaned forward and kissed him, fingers giving up their ownership of his tie as she pulled back a moment later and nodded, eyes wide with apprehension, and her fingers coming to rest on his waist, where they tugged at his belt without her really thinking about it. "Okay."
“I think,” he said, fighting the urge to laugh with every word, “that you think the neighbors care about us more than they actually do. I’d like to know who this ‘they’ is who’re so interested in whether or not I can be tempted and striking up conversation while I’m walking the dog, and I’d also like to know why you haven’t mentioned the fact that every male in the neighborhood is probably enamoured with you.” His voice became progressively warmer and lowered in volume as she drew him against her, and god, it was so hard to not just drag her back down the elevator and to their hotel room. “You didn’t grow up too badly yourself,” he told her, trying for teasing and falling just a little short, unable to keep the want out of his voice. But then he remembered why he’d brought her up here in the first place, and right, focus, he needed to--wanted to--focus, because he wanted to ask her; he didn’t want to put it off any longer. “It’s nothing bad,” he reassured her, seeing the worry in her expression, and he couldn’t believe he’d managed to mess things up before he’d even started. He leaned into her when she kissed him, her whimper making him want more, but he let her pull away, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly as he regained his bearings.
Okay. He could do this. “I love you,” he began, finding it a little easier to look at her in the dark, as opposed to under bright lights. “I love you more than I-- than I thought someone could love another person. I could spend hours and hours listing all the reasons why, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” He paused, just for a moment. “I know we don’t talk about the future much, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it. I have-- I do. And, well, I can’t imagine a future without you in it. I don’t want a future without you in it,” he said earnestly. “No matter how bad things get, we always make it through, and I think-- I think that says a lot about us, about the strength of our relationship. People... they talk about soulmates, and that one person, and some go their whole lives without ever finding that. But I have. I have, and I-- I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Today, tomorrow, and all the years after that. I don’t want forever to be-- to be this hypothetical thing. I want it to be real.” He found her hands with his and tugged, just once, visibly nervous. “So... there’s something I--I want to ask you.”
If he was blushing, he didn’t realize it, despite the stammering. He took a small step back, heart pounding, and reached into his suit jacket for the ring, snug inside a small black box, which he opened as he dropped down on one knee. “Wren Maheu,” he said, looking up at her with poorly disguised hope, “will you marry me?”
All that teasing went a long way to calming her down and, by the time he told her it was nothing bad, she was starting to remember how to breathe again. The way he wanted to keep kissing her helped too, as did the fact that he wanted to keep her there. She knew Luke well enough to know that if it was really, really terrible, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on wanting her. No, it would be okay, she reassured herself. It was okay. And the way he had to inhale deeply before continuing made her wonder if she was missing something. His exhale only backed up that late realization, and she might have managed to follow this down the right path on her own with a few more seconds, but she didn't get a chance to, because he was talking then, and her heart started beating so loudly that she thought she might not be able to hear him if it kept getting any louder. As soon as he mentioned the future, nervousness took over, and she was pretty sure she was supposed to stay calm while he panicked and stammered. But she was rucking up the fabric of the dress at her hips before she even realized she was doing it; an old habit that had never quite died. Her teeth found her lower lip at the same time, worrying her lipstick away, and she couldn't look at his face for more than a second or two at a time. She was pretty sure she forgot how to breathe, and she had no idea when she lost her shoe; she only noticed because her bare toes were pressing against the top of his shoe, and they hadn't been doing that a moment earlier. And that was all before he tugged her hands, forcing her fingers to let go of the fabric of her dress, which was twisted and wrinkled from her grip a moment earlier.
She almost wanted to tell him no, no, no, not to kneel down, because she wasn't sure she could handle the butterflies in her stomach if he did, but she couldn't find her voice quick enough, and that was probably a good thing. By the time he pulled the box out, she was sobbing. Not tearing up, not laughing daintily - sobbing. But it was a smiling sob, her hand pressed against her mouth to try to keep quiet, even just a little. She knew that she was supposed to say yes, to be thankful, and to say all the right things. Maybe she was even supposed to be witty. She was pretty sure that's how it was supposed to happen, but she was really terrible at following any kind of script. There was a moment where she was torn between tugging him to his feet, or kneeling, but the options didn't really matter in the end, not as long as she could kiss him, which was what she really, really wanted to do.
And so she nodded, because she couldn't find the words, and then she gave up the battle not to cry, because she was failing anyway. In the end, she tugged on the shoulders of his jacket fruitlessly for just a moment, before sliding down to join him, not caring about the concrete against her knees or what anyone who was watching would think. Her arms wound around his neck, and she even forgot to take the ring, to kiss him, to do anything but hold him for a second, two seconds, three seconds. And then she remembered she wanted to kiss him, and so she did, salt from her tears, and tang from her bleeding lip, and a hint of happy laughter bubbling up that she couldn't contain.
His own nervousness meant that he had less of a capacity to focus on hers, which was probably a good thing, since he’d managed to trip over his words enough without noticing the way she rucked up her dress, or worried her lip, or started sobbing before he’d even asked her what he wanted to ask. On some level Luke was aware of these things, but it was drowned out by his own shaky desire to get the words out and just do it, because he’d already waited long enough and he didn’t want to wait even a second longer. Then, once he was down on one knee and waiting for her response, these things slid back into focus, but fortunately he realized that her sobs weren’t a bad thing; he’d fully expected her to cry. In fact, if she hadn’t, then he might have had reason to worry.
He broke out into a grin as soon as she nodded, and it didn’t matter that some of the tourists had stopped to watch, or that a low wave of adoring murmurs had broken out somewhere behind them; all that mattered was that she’d said yes. “Good,” he said, as she slid down to join him, nerves getting the best of him again, even as she slid her arms around his neck. “I mean, of course it’s good, I wanted you to say yes, I just--” His babble was cut off when she kissed him, all salt and tang and a hint of laughter, and he responded eagerly, even though he couldn’t quite manage to stop smiling. In that moment everything else was forgotten save for the two of them, and he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. He didn’t pull back until he thought about the ring, and even then it was a reluctant movement, tapering off into shorter kisses until he managed to draw back enough to look at her. “Put it on?”
She laughed more when he spoke, when he stammered and babbled, and it was more of that happy laughter that she'd been pretty sure she couldn't even still laugh until that moment. No, that wasn't true, because she was fairly sure she'd never felt like this before, and it made her want to smile every bit as much as it made her want to hold on tight and never, ever let go of this moment. She knew, by that point, that they had an audience. She knew that she should stand up, and be calm and rational, but she didn't move at all. Instead, she nodded again when he asked her to put the ring on, and she pulled back just enough to look at it for a few long seconds, without touching it, while it was still in the tiny box. She knew him, and she knew that would add to his nervousness, but she couldn't help it; she wanted to slow time down to nothing, to a crawl, and she pressed her lips together thoughtfully as she tipped her head and really looked. Another few seconds later, she nodded again, as if the question was still lingering between them, and she reached for the ring with fingers that trembled. She didn't touch the box, didn't reach for it at all; she just plucked the ring from its place, and she held it between two fingers, watching as it caught the white lights on the tower's beams. She closed her eyes for just a moment, tears falling from her lashes as she concentrated on the feeling of it between her fingers, and then she shook her head and held it back to him. "You do it," she said, opening her eyes and looking back up at him, as if she hadn't seen him in a very, very long time. "Hi." Breath. "Please?"
He loved the sound of her laughter. If he’d been able to, if it had been possible, he would have found a way to bottle it, to keep it forever and never forget how it sounded. But he couldn’t do that, and so Luke resolved to give her more reasons to laugh like that in the future, even though not much could top a marriage proposal; except maybe the wedding itself. When she nodded, he expected her to slide the ring on her finger, but then she just looked at it instead, and he tried so very hard not to mistake that thoughtful tip of her head for something else; consideration of whether or not she actually wanted to put it on, maybe, or rethinking the concept of marrying him entirely. He tugged on his pant leg with his free hand, a nervous gesture he wasn’t even aware of, and when she shook her head, he started tugging harder, but once she asked him to do it instead he breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so she wasn’t having second thoughts. Of course she wasn’t. He nodded, just as she had, and took the ring with fingers he fought very hard to keep from shaking. “Okay,” he agreed. “And hi.” He took her hand in his, running his thumb over the top for a second, before sliding the ring on her finger with obvious care.
She watched his thumb brush over her hand, and she watched him slide the ring on her finger, and she did it all with the kind of rapt attention that didn't falter and didn't blink, as if it would all disappear if she looked away, if she didn't follow every little movement of precious metal on skin. She curled her finger in as soon as he finished, a childish little attempt to capture something by not letting the ring even think of going anywhere. She was still looking down at her hand when she started speaking, voice raw from crying, and still the slightest bit hitched. "Do you mean it?" she asked, not looking up until after. It wasn't doubt, not really, more like awe, and the same expression lit up her features when she finally raised her full attention to his face. "Do you really mean it?" And she knew it was a silly question; she did. He wouldn't bring her out here and ask if he didn't mean it, but she still wanted to hear it. And there was a kind of uncertainty in her voice, young and tentative, as she continued. "I don't know anyone who's ever gotten married. I mean, not who wasn't married already when I met them," she explained, referring to her clients, but not wanting to say it outright. She took a deep breath, and she smiled a nervous smile. "Tell me how you want it to work," she added, because she didn't want to make assumptions, and she didn't want to be wrong and think a million paces ahead. Maybe this was it? And the thought immediately made her shake her head, so that he didn't get the wrong idea. "I mean, it doesn't have to work any specific way-" She shrugged her shoulders, and she bit her lip, and she gave him a hopeful smile. "Do you understand what I'm asking?"
“Yeah, I mean it.” There was no hesitation before he spoke, not in the slightest. “I mean it more than I-- than I’ve meant almost anything ever,” he admitted, an almost shy confession. He’d said a lot of things in his lifetime, not all of them true, but when it came to her and how he felt, the things he wanted, he’d always been utterly genuine and honest. He’d never give her anything less. “I don’t either, aside from my parents, but I wasn’t around to remember that,” he said, when she explained that she’d never known one who’d gotten married. None of his friends were, and few ever had been; there was Jack, but his wife had already been dead by the time Luke had met him, and he didn’t know anyone with a wife now. By now he knew her well enough to understand that she didn’t share his conventional understanding of how engagements and marriages worked, and while it was pretty straightforward for him, it wasn’t the same for her. “Yeah, I think so,” he reassured her. “I-- I don’t really know anything about planning a wedding, but it can be whatever we want it to be. Big and complicated, or small and simple, with just our closest friends. I don’t want you to worry about money either,” he added quickly. “I know it’s tight right now, but that’ll change once I’m on the force, and we can save up.” He paused, realizing he was babbling again. “I want us to get married. I want to make it permanent, and I want to write really cheesy vows that I’ll stammer my way through, and I want to see you walk down the aisle and stop breathing for a few seconds and have someone declare us husband and wife,” he said, and it all came out in a breathless rush. “Is that what you meant?”
Despite her own mental reassurances that he wouldn't have asked if he wasn't sure, she still relaxed perceptibly when he repeated that yes, he did mean it. And that assurance made her breathe easier, quieter, and her smile went a little less nervous, but only just a little. She kissed him quickly, then, a tiny peck of a kiss that was barely anything at all, unthinking, and she just needed to do it, and maybe he'd understand? She hoped he did. His voice calmed her more, while he talked about his parents, and then he began stammering, and she smiled and kissed his cheek, leaning in and making it a slow press of lips against skin this time, with no real rush before she rocked back. She nodded when he asked if that was what she'd meant, though she had trouble seeing through the tears by then, and she considered getting him to move, she considered moving herself, she considered getting him somewhere quiet, somewhere it was just them. But she was pretty sure she'd lose courage and honesty by the time they got wherever they were going, and she didn't want her worries to get in the way of saying everything she was feeling, without thinking about whether it was right, or whether it was how things were supposed to go. Her hand, the one with the diamond catching the light, raised to touch his cheek in a loving caress of soft fingertips, and she gave him a shy-soft smile. "That's what I meant," she said, confirming her nod from moments earlier. "We don't need money," she said, and then she blushed, because maybe that wasn't the right way to start. "Unless you want something big, I don't. I just- I never-" She took a deep breath, and she laughed a little at her own ineloquence. "Little girls dream of getting married one day, but I never did, and I don't have any- All I need is you. That's all. I don't think anyone understands what makes us, and I think I would rather do something like this alone, just us, unless- unless you want something huge," she added, quick and apologetic at the end. "And no rush. I- I don't mean- I know people are engaged forever sometimes, and that's enough, if that's what you want. I just meant that, to me, it doesn't matter. We could find a wedding chapel tonight, or we could do it when we're eighty. I- All I need is to know you want to." She smiled, a blushing smile, and she looked down. "The cheesy vows and you stammering might be nice, though."
The quick, fleeting kiss didn’t confuse him, mostly because he didn’t let himself think about it long enough for that to happen. What he did focus on was that it soothed his nerves, that it was a gesture of affection he eagerly accepted, and if it hadn’t been so dark, Luke was sure his cheeks would be bright red; something that hadn’t happened in years. All that stammering paid off, even if he thought he’d gotten to the point where he could coherently form words no matter what the circumstances, and he ducked his head a little, sheepish, when she kissed his cheek. Maybe going somewhere a little more private would have been better, but he couldn’t be bothered to move just then. In his mind, it was just the two of them anyway, so she’d have to be the one to get him on his feet if she wanted to go somewhere else. Since he’d had his turn, this time he let her speak, not wanting to interrupt, but he couldn’t keep the surprise out of his expression when she didn’t need anything but him. It was followed swiftly by something like hope, an eagerness to believe in what she was saying, and he realized he’d misjudged a lot. “I want to,” was the first thing he said, firm and immediate. “I really, really want to. I don’t want to be engaged forever, and I don’t think I could wait ‘till we’re eighty,” he added, a gurgle of laughter escaping his lips. “I just thought-- I thought every woman in the world wanted a big, fairytale wedding, and I didn’t want-- I mean, if you wanted that, then I want you to have it. I thought you did. But I don’t. I don’t care about any of that. I just want to marry you,” he admitted. “I can stammer through cheesy vows no matter what happens. You really-- I mean, you’d really want to do it tonight? That’s not too fast?” It would be impulsive, and their friends would probably think it ill-advised, not to mention the fact that they didn’t have a dress or wedding bands or anything, but if she didn’t want to wait, and he didn’t want to wait, then why not? The prospect exhilarated him, and just thinking about it made his stomach clench with nerves, but it wasn’t a bad feeling at all.
She loved the shy way he ducked his head. She loved all the tiny little things in the man that reminded her of the boy he'd been, and she didn't need to see him blush to know that the cheek her lips brushed against was warm and red. And she wasn't in any hurry to move and find her feet, not yet, not just yet. Instead, she bit her lip and looked up after her long explanation, knowing that it was disjointed and confused and not at all what it should have been. But she'd stopped worrying about saying the right thing with him, somewhere along the way, without even realizing it. Back in Seattle, and even more in New York, she'd worried so much about the right things to say to him, and she wasn't sure if it was age, time or experience that had stolen that bad habit, but it seldom showed its face these days. Even when it did, as it had moments earlier, she was much better about silencing it, and it was a tiny thing she thought she'd gotten better about. His firm and immediate response that he really did want this, that it wasn't just a ring and a promise that was never intended to be fulfilled, it made the butterflies in her stomach flap their wings in a way they hadn't in a really, really long time. When he laughed, she kissed him again, slower this time, as if she'd realized this wasn't going to disappear if she took the time to really kiss him. "You'd look handsome, even at eighty," she argued when he said he couldn't wait that long. Her thumb brushed his lip once the kiss ended, and she regarded him quietly, grey eyes intent and intense. "I already have my fairytale," she said honestly, and she meant it. And maybe some other day she would have pushed harder to make sure he wasn't just giving her back what she wanted to hear, but Silver's death had taught her a hard lesson; tomorrow wasn't a guarantee. And, even without knowing his thoughts, she knew he was right. Their friends would hate it, and they would hate it for so many reasons, but that didn't matter just then. "If you want to marry me, then I want to marry you. I don't want to wait." She took a very deep breath, as if she had just realized what they were actually talking about. "If you change your mind, you can always blame me. Everyone would believe you," she said, trying to tease, but knowing that was true too. "This is Vegas, right? You don't licenses here, and they have to sell rings at the chapels." She laughed, and it was a nervous laugh, because he might be the one to say no now, and god, she felt like a giddy teenager. "But no Elvis. Promise, no Elvis."