Author's notes: I just want to take this opportunity to thank several of you. DJ Akane, for encouraging me to write it in the first place, providing ideas, and just generally being there. Sevarem, for prodding me to update around the middle when I started slacking off, and for giving me reason to believe that maybe I wasn't just preaching to the choir, or more accurately, writing for those who'll read anything with Tifa in it. All the dedicated reviewers, especially Aes Sedai, Tiy, naturesbungle (Cetra Singularity? Now I'm all disoriented), Death's Angel, Ann, Aislinn and Tifa H (another who spurred me to post again). I may have missed a few longtime readers, but I'm just going by reviews here.
"You think the earrings are cursed?" I asked, as I was brushing my hair.
"Lockhart, I picked them out before I ever got shot, and I got shot before you opened the box. There's no connection."
"Yeah, well, you want to find out you're wrong the hard way?"
"Don't borrow trouble, Lockhart," he said through a sweatshirt. "I promise I'm not going to get shot," he added, pulling it down the rest of the way.
"You know if you do I'll hold it against you," I said. "I dunno, they feel a little cursed."
"You got psychic powers?"
"Yep! Brand-new." As I pulled my hair back with barrettes, I saw him approaching out of the corner of my eye.
"You should wear 'em," he said from the doorjamb. "They look nice on you."
"Sweetie, you think everything looks nice on me."
"Not true. I thought that blue dress with the thing was bad."
"I loved that dress!" The 'thing' was a wrap that went over it - I never had known what they called them either. When I'd come down to the lobby of my building wearing it, he'd actually asked about other dresses I owned. It hadn't occurred to me until halfway through the evening what he meant by that. I still thought I looked good in it.
He shrugged. "Just pointing it out..."
"Yeah, well."
"Wear 'em. They look nice, and they were expensive."
"And cursed. You all wear bulletproof vests all the time now, right?"
"Yes, and I'm blessed with a tough skull. Wear the earrings."
I'd been intending to anyway - the anniversary did have me a bit anxious, but I wasn't that superstitious - so I put them in, sticking out my tongue at the mirror.
"Buy you a diamond ring, see if you think that's cursed."
I went quiet. "Nicholas. What?"
"Uh. Nothing." He looked a bit shifty as a I turned around.
"'Diamond ring'?" It wasn't like I was trying to trap him or anything. We both occasionally made reference to 'when we're married,' rather than 'if.'
"Can I take that back?"
"Why even bring it up?"
"Uh. Just slipped out."
"Well, if you're annoyed about the earrings, just say so." He shrugged again. I was starting to get annoyed. "Rude, why the hell are you acting like this?"
Another shrug. "...nervous," he said, finally.
I softened. "About... you know, last year?"
"...this year. I was, uh, planning... hell. I screwed it up."
"Screwed up what, honey?" I asked.
He sighed, then pushed off the doorjamb and headed into the kitchen. I trailed after, hoping there was an explanation to be pried out of him. I watched as he opened the refrigerator door, pulled out something that rustled, then after a moment, turned and held out a bouquet of roses. I took them, uncertainly.
"Is that why you wanted to go to my place? And why you insisted on buying burgers?" I asked, trying to ignore the excited, nervous happiness beginning to fizz inside me.
He canted his head in that half-nod of his. "I was supposed to do it right tomorrow night. I have a bottle of wine and Elena was going to call me and tell me how to cook. And I was going to buy a ring."
"On Christmas Eve?"
"Today." I guess I still looked doubtful. "Didn't say it was a good plan," he added.
"It's a really sweet plan, though." I sniffed of the roses - the wrapper had absorbed a bit of that sour refrigerator smell. He never cleaned his out. The roses smelled faintly like they were supposed to. "Are you proposing to me?"
"Sort of. A little. Um." He got down on one knee, then didn't quite seem to know what to do with his hands, so I reached out and grabbed one. He held it in both of his, stared at our joined hands, then looked up for a moment at my face. Then back at our hands. He looked about like I felt - happy and kind of scared all at once. "I, uh, don't have the ring yet. Forgot the speech I was working on. But will you... will you marry me?"
It wasn't like it was a surprise. We'd been together more than a year, and this wasn't a shock, but I still couldn't speak, so I just dropped to my knees as well, beamed into his face and wrapped my arms around him, trying not to crush the flowers. My eyes felt kind of damp. He was holding me so tightly it almost hurt. I might have been doing the same to him.
"Didn't say yes," he said, muffled by my hair.
I laughed against his shoulder. "You are so... yes. You idiot. I love you."
"Call in sick. We'll pick out your ring."
"Yeah, I feel violently ill right now," I said.