I know fon is OOC,omg! Why I always screw up when valentine *sobs*
Fon: don't cry *pats* anyway please review *smiles*
I've been here all along
He'd expected this. He'd even hoped for it. But he still felt a twinge of — pity. You'd been stood up. Again. Here you sat, alone in an upscale restaurant, dressed in your favourite little black dress.
Fon watched your reflection in a mirror and saw the sigh that gusted out of your mouth and ruffled your hair as you sat back in your chair, closing your eyes.
It was time to make his move.
Before you became aware of his presence behind you, he cupped the back of your neck, his thumb caressing you just under your left ear. He felt your pulse leap, saw a smile burst across your face as you turned to look back over your shoulder. Fon stepped up beside your and watched as your smile died.
Yanking yourself away from his touch, you frowned at him. "What're you doing here?"
Fon just gave you a long-suffering look. Then, jerking his head, he said, "Come on. Let's go."
You hunched a shoulder and turned your head away. "Get lost. I don't need you to rescue me."
He glanced at the two empty water bottles sitting before your and pulled a bill out of his wallet to leave on the table. Then he stood there for a moment, gazing at the top of your head, his mind juggling the usual spank you or kiss you debate. Under his breath, he said, "Yes, you do. And this time I'm going to do it right."
In one way or another, he'd been rescuing you since both of you were kids, and you'd always resented it. Whether as a pre-pubescent tomboy, or the swan you'd evolved into, you'd been diving headfirst into catastrophes and he'd been reeling you out. And though until just recently — he hoped — you'd viewed him as nothing more than a bothersome big brother, he'd never considered you a sister.
His problem was that every time he'd tried to tell you how he felt, he'd muck it up, the result being you'd never believed him.
He reached down and started to pull your chair out from the table, the muscles of his arm flexing.
you didn't surprise him. True to form, You was stubborn and tried to dig your feet in, but after a brief struggle you must have realized it was pointless. With a sigh, you let him help you up and followed him out of the restaurant. They walked for a block without speaking, but he had no problem reading your thoughts. you had an expressive face, and he'd been translating it for years.
Before long he was unlocking his big house door( I repear: BIG :p ). "Come on. Get in."
you pulled away from him, then turned and lifted your head and looked into his eyes, still not saying anything.
Fon felt his lips twitch. "What? Still mad at me?"
you settled your butt back against the wall and shook your head, a sad look on your face. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at Reborn. Mad at myself — or at least disgusted with myself." His heart clenched as tears began to roll down your face. "What's wrong with me, Fon? Why is it so hard for me to find someone who will care about me once in a while, instead of thinking only of himself? Someone who can remember which night of the week is my night, and which night is the night with the guys."
Taking a step forward, you settled yourself against his body, your arms around his waist, the side of your face resting on his throat. His chin came down, and using it, he gently rubbed the top of your head while his arms surrounded your in a gesture of comfort and protection. Their movements were fluid and natural, as if they'd stood like this many times before. They had.
You mumbled into the bare flesh beneath your mouth, "If you crack a joke, or make fun of me, I swear I'll bite you."
Fon cupped the back of your head, pulled back, and dropped a kiss on your forehead. "It wouldn't be the first time, would it? All right, no jokes, no making fun. Come on. Get in my house. Everything will be okay. I promise."
Frowning up at him, You said, "I dont want."
Lightly squeezing your head, he said, "(y/n), I told you to get in my house now "
Wrenching yourself out of his hands, nearly hissing like the cat, you said, "Don't call me like you know me! And how many times have I told you, you are not the boss of me!"
Grinning, he replied, "I've lost count. But I do remember that you were six years old the first time you said it."
Grumbling, crossing your arms over your chest and staying your ground, you said, "For all the good it's done me."
Exasperated, He said, "Fine, I didn't want to do this here, but you leave me no choice." With that, he pushed your back against the wall, using the weight of his pelvis to hold you there, letting you feel one facet of his desire, but knowing he had to make you understand the extent of it. With a deep breath, he said, "You've been a part of my life since you were six, and I was eight. So I can speak with authority and say there is nothing wrong with you, (y/n)." He paused. "I wanted to take you to the park near where we lived when we were kids. I was fourteen years old the first time I told you I wanted to marry you, and that's where we were. Since then I've told you four times. And each time, it was in that park."
He felt your gasp and heard the wobble in your voice as you said, "I told you no jokes. You're making fun of me again."
Fon leaned his forehead on yours. "(y/n), it's never been a joke. But the way I feel about you scares me, so every time I tried to tell you I deliberately made it sound like I was teasing. But I was serious, even when I was fourteen. Every time, I was standing there with my heart in my palms, offering it to you."
You put your hands on his chest and pushed him away, looking up into his face. "What are you saying?"
He swallowed around his heart, which had taken up lodging in his throat. "I guess I still haven't said it, have I? I love you,(y/n). I want you to be my wife. And lately I've been thinking that, just maybe, you love me too."
You punched him on the shoulder and then yelled in his face. "You moron! Of course I love you. Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Laughing, he grabbed your fist, and then pulled you tightly to him. Lowering his mouth to you, he said, "I've been asking you to marry me since I was fourteen! What more do you want?"
