A/N: Random plotbunny that I've always found adorable. Hopefully the modern AU translation isn't too jarring; this just really didn't fit back in FE time. Don't drown in all the fluff, fair warning.

Words: 1867
Characters: Jill, Haar, other
Time: Modern AU
Genre: Romance/Family

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Nintendo, not me.

Despite Haar's determined Saturday afternoon lethargy, Jill always appreciated accomplishing things on the weekend. She often left much of their housework until the weekend, since between school and work, she always came home later than Haar on weekdays. He took care of everyday duties during the work week, and she ran any necessary errands on the weekends. It was an easy, unspoken, functional system.

With a large tub of laundry for dry cleaning resting awkwardly on one hip, Jill scrambled at the door to their apartment for her keys. She caught sight of Haar's black bomber jacket handing on a nearby peg and threw it into her tub too.

Springtime was fresh and bright in the air. All the snow in Talrega was gone at last, so Jill had decided it was time to clean their heavy winter coats and re-shelve them. At the dry cleaner's, there was no line; one of the many advantages of living in such a small town was that there were never any crowds or long waits. After a friendly conversation with the worker behind the counter, Jill dropped off her clothes and headed home, picking up some of Haar's favorite coffee (decaf, of course) on the way.

To her surprise, when she returned, Haar was awake and reading that morning's paper. He was still reclined in their favorite plush armchair. She waved the coffee at him, and he smiled.

"Thanks, Jill."

"There's a reason it's called the Morning Journal, you know," Jill said, passing him the coffee.

"I'm nocturnal. This is morning for me."

"You're not nocturnal. You just never wake up."

He kissed her when she sat next to him in the cozy chair. She found her way under his arm, curled into his chest, and yawned when she felt the easy rise and fall of his breathing. Perhaps Haar had the right idea, snoozing away Saturday afternoons…

"What're your plans for tomorrow?"

"Buy some groceries, pick up the dry cleaning, check in at the library," Jill said. Her internship at the local library required a little bit of weekend work; as she was still in school and therefore the youngest employee, all the less desirable jobs fell to her. The library was closed Sunday, but she always had to go clean up and reorganize all the recently returned books. "In fact, I should… I could go to the grocery store now, have less to do for tomorrow…"

A gentle squeeze warmed her shoulders. "You know you don't want to do that."

Jill smiled. "No, I don't," she agreed. "You've been a bad influence on me."

"Not true. I've only helped you relax a little," Haar said, tangling his hand through her hair to tickle the back of her neck. Jill squealed and wriggled in cheerful protest, but Haar held her tight, and when he touched her again, it was to massage her neck smoothly and gently. "See? That's more like it," he said.

"Thanks, Haar," yawned Jill. She cuddled into his side and decided, for once, to let tomorrow worry about tomorrow.

The next day, Jill was indeed a little rushed. She crept out of bed a little too late, tiptoeing very quietly so as not to wake Haar. In her head she was already running through her to-do list: she'd hit the library first, and by then the dry-cleaner's and the grocery store would be open, and she'd also have to make time to fill up her car or perhaps even wash it. At least everything was close together; no traffic and no long commutes.

After a quick breakfast of strawberries and cereal, Jill drove to the library to work; she usually liked to jog there, but what with everything else she had to do today, she figured it would be easier to take the car. Organizing the books took her a few hours; she inevitably got sidetracked. Some random, classical title would always catch her eye, and she'd idle around for thirty minutes or so flipping through its yellowed pages. But eventually, her chores dragged her away; she stopped next at the dry-cleaner's.

It was usually a friendly, warm place, but today something seemed different. There were two people behind the counter, and they had been whispering close together until Jill opened the door, at which point their discussion ceased abruptly.

"Hi," Jill said cautiously. "I'm here to pick up my laundry from yesterday – should be under Jill Fizzart."

"O-of course, Jill," one of the workers said, rushing to the back. The other man was left looking awkward and foolish. He muttered a greeting. When her laundry arrived, Jill opened her wallet to pay, but the man's voice stopped her.

"We – um – we found this in a pocket… in the pocket of the black leather jacket…"

It was a little black box. Preoccupied with her wallet (and her budget), Jill glanced at it only briefly before taking it and slipping it into her pocket. The box was soft and velvet against her palm.

"Thanks," Jill said. She pulled out her credit card. "Here."

The man blinked. "O-okay."

Only once she was back in the car, the employees' whispers trailing her exit, did Jill remember – by awkwardly sitting on it – the box in her pocket. Curious, she pulled it out and flipped it open. Her heart skipped in her chest.

A flash from the sun, streaming in through the open window, caught the surface of a round-cut diamond and bounced into her eyes. Blinking, Jill titled the box; more shimmers danced but did not blind. The large diamond in the center was trailed by a silver weave, highlighted with little diamonds, winding around the slim silver band of the ring. It was magnificent, rare, shocking – jewelry so fine could not be found in Talrega.

Her heart managed to start beating again before her mind really resumed functioning, so she sat there for a minute, her pulse racing, staring in dumb astonishment. At the moment, the beauty of the ring was more powerful even than its meaning, which she had not truly comprehended yet. Shortly, however, she recalled the man's words - "in the pocket of the black leather jacket..."

The jacket she had grabbed on a whim, without asking. Haar's favorite jacket.

He had a ring in his pocket. A stunning, marvelous engagement ring. He wanted to propose to her.

Jill forgot entirely about the rest of her errands. She was lucky there were few cars on the road because her mind was blank; she drove unconsciously and found herself outside their apartment building in a few short minutes. In a daze, she climbed the steps and found their apartment by sheer habit. She had forgotten the laundry in the car. Her hands were shaking so much that it took her a few tries to properly unlock the door, then she stumbled inside and stood there, frozen, completely at a loss.

"Hey, Jill. I fixed the porch like you asked. You're back early, something you forgot?"

Haar's face appeared around the corner. Instantly he noticed her irresolution, her bewilderment, or whatever it was that she was feeling at the moment.

"Jill, what's wrong? What happened?" He approached her at once.

Wordlessly she took the box from her pocket again and held it out in front of her, her arm straight, as far towards him as it would go. She looked Haar straight in the face as he stopped dead in his tracks. There was a long, heavy pause.

"Oh," said Haar.

Jill nearly laughed at the inadequacy of that statement. As it was, her face could only manage a tremulous half-smile. Haar's fingers brushed hers when he took the jewelry box, and she wanted to grasp and hold his hand like she so often did, but she was too still, too scared.

"How did you get this?" Haar asked.

"Dry cleaner's found it," she breathed. "It was in your black bomber jacket. I took it without asking."

Haar nodded, flipping the box over a few times in his palm, but said nothing.

"Where did you get it?" asked Jill.

Silence. Now Haar looked away from her; she could only see a shaded profile.

"In Melior. I asked around. I met up with Mist… told her I was buying you a necklace, so I could figure out what kind of jewelry you liked, but no one knew I was looking for a ring."

His words hung in the air for a long minute. They seemed to travel very sluggishly from her ears to her brain. Jill stuttered and stumbled over her response.

"B-but Haar… you went to Crimea eight months ago. We – we weren't even dating then."

Haar shrugged.

"Were you that confident I'd say yes?" Jill demanded, feeling her cheeks flush suddenly. "We weren't even – you just assumed I'd agree - "

"No," Haar said quickly. "No, I had no idea what you'd say. But I knew I wanted to ask."

Silence again. His gaze was fixed on her once more. His expression was mostly impassive, inscrutable, but she thought that she could feel, or sense, if not see, a little hint of hope, a touch of uncertainty.

"You knew?" she said, and she didn't intend it, but her voice came out a whisper. "Even then… you already knew?"

Haar nodded shortly.

"Why didn't you say anything before? Why haven't you asked yet?"

"Because I wanted to wait until you would say yes. Hopefully. It's – well, it's hard to know that for certain, you know?"

Jill let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Oh," she said.

Then, quite suddenly, they were both smiling. Haar's grin was familiar, simple, slightly sheepish; Jill smiled in relief and astonishment. She had wondered occasionally, vaguely, if they would ever get married, but never really spared the idea much thought. However, she never would have imagined that the topic would spring to life between them quite like this. Somehow, in the course of her sudden smiling, she realized she was crying a bit too, laughing-crying. Haar came over to her, held her hand, opened the box, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Jill," he began, paused, and then – "Marry me, Jill?"

She nodded, her smile preciously bright through her tears, and she took his face in her hands and kissed him on the lips. His arms encircled her; he didn't let her go. Finally they relaxed just enough for Jill to raise to her hand, for Haar to slip the intricately woven ring onto her finger. She held it up for inspection.

"Mist advised you well," said Jill, rather teasingly. "It's lovely, Haar. Really."

"You're lovely."

"Charming."

"I try."

Jill laughed, almost a girl's giggle of precociousness and charm. She rested her head once more on Haar's chest. "Yes. Yes. You do try – and this time, you have succeeded spectacularly."