A/N: I was so saddened by the ending of Smash, I decided to crack this out. I hope you this collection of sweet nothings about Ivy and Derek.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I whispered, grabbing his hand tightly. I was tapping my foot ferociously, shaking. My eyes darted everywhere- was this really happening?
"Ivy, I wouldn't have it any other way," he reassured me, releasing my grip. He tucked a loose blonde lock behind my ear and stroked my cheek. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
His question stumped me. Was I? I've been through a hell of a year. Through tears and trials, pills and auditions, to ripped sheet music and posters, I knew I could get through anything. But this… this was a big commitment. I wasn't sure if I wanted to do this, but I knew it was the right thing. I rested a tender hand on my stomach and looked into his sparkling eyes. "Absolutely."
"Good," he smirked, looking around the room. He caught the gaze of a man in a suit. "You-" he pointed. "We're ready."
He wasn't fazed by this. In a solid gray suit and tie to match, he shuffled over to us. "Will anyone else be joining you?"
"No," I began, shaking my head. The doors busted open. "Ivy!"
"Mom?" I wasn't surprised. She always had a knack for butting into my life at the worst times.
"Darling, I wouldn't miss this for the world. I'm so glad this sweet boy called me when he did," she pinched his cheek. Straightening her dress, the famous Leigh Conroy stood by my side, fluffing my hair and hissing for me to stand up straight.
"You had to call her?" I mouthed.
"Wait," he replied silently.
"Ivy!" the door swung open once more. Sam. Tom. Julia.
My mouth was agape. I didn't want this.
"How could you do this to me?" I wailed.
I was surrounded. They ran over to me, fixing this, muttering that. I couldn't take it.
"I don't want this, I don't want this," I cried, pushing them away.
"No!" I shrieked, bolting up. I was in a cold sweat. "No," I murmured, frantically looking around.
"What the hell?" he groaned, groggily turning over. He sat up and turned on the lamp. "What's going on?"
"I had a nightmare. It's nothing, go to sleep," I cooed, reaching over him to turn off the light. I was holding back tears, I could hear my voice cracking.
"Come off it, Ivy, it's not nothing," he yawned, swiftly embracing me. "What happened?"
"I'm worried about tomorrow," I mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.
There was an awkward pause. "It was your idea," he finally retorted.
"I know," I sighed. I finally looked at him. Stubble rested on the sides of his face. His eyes were tired, his hair a mess. Shirtless and toned, I couldn't help but let a smile dance at my lips when I realized how lucky I was to be lying in bed with this man.
"What now?" he laughed, giving that sexy side grin of his.
"You're really hot," I giggled, nestling myself against his chest. He suppressed a laugh and kissed my forehead. "Even like that," I added.
"Like what?" he questioned, ruffling his hair. "All exhausted and stressed?"
"Especially exhausted and stressed," I replied.
"Do you want to be my wife?" he asked, playing with my fingers.
"Do you want to be my husband?" I smartly countered.
"Answering a question with another question, are we?"
"Didn't you just do the same?"
He couldn't help but snort. The gleam in his eyes returned, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. I loved those eyes. Soulful. Real.
"Yes, I want to make you my wife."
"Then it's settled," I snuggled up against him once more, draping the blanket over our bodies.
"What is?"
"Tomorrow, I'll be Mrs. Ivy Wills."
He shut off the light and kissed the back of my neck. "I can't fucking wait."