Well, hello! I am certainly NOT up again, far past my bedtime, writing oneshots. What? No! That is exactly what is NOT happening.
To be honest, there is very little of substance here. I'm pretty sure it's the most sugar-coated thing I've ever written. To steal a quote from Fizzy Starburst, I'm fairly certain it's the "fluffiest fluff to ever fluff a fluff" (and you should take this opportunity to say that aloud a couple times, because it's incredibly entertaining). In fact, it's probably slightly out of character (hopefully not distractingly so). But I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it!
I own nothing.
Mary sighs contentedly as she walks beneath blooming chalk cherry trees with the man she's loved for what seems like ever. "You've really outdone yourself, Bert."
"Anything for you, Mary Poppins," he replies earnestly.
She stops to turn and study him. "You really are something entirely different," she informs him.
"What d'you mean?"
She shakes her head. "It's not something I can put my finger on," she says, unwittingly giving him the perfect transition.
"Maybe you can't put your finger on it, but I 'ave something you can put on your finger," he tells her.
"Bert-"
"Don't interrupt, love, din't anybody ever tell you it was rude?" he grins. She glares but motions for him to continue. He gropes in his jacket's pockets and pulls out a small box.
"Bert, I-"
"Y'know, it's customary to let the other person to start talking before you go mucking up their nice, planned out speeches," he teases and once again she closes her mouth with a glare. "Mary, I've known you for years now, and I still 'aven't figured out just 'ow much I love you. But, I'd like to 'ave the rest of forever to figure it out."
He opens the box to reveal a simple silver band with a single teardrop diamond. It's simply the most beautiful, most heartfelt thing Mary has ever seen, but he's already gotten away with too much today, so she just fixes him with an icy stare. He shifts uncomfortably, "Mary, you might say something," he stammers after a minute of dead silence.
Her eyes begin to sparkle with mischief. "Oh, I'm not interrupting you now, am I? I didn't want to go mucking up your nice, planned out speech."
"You are almost more trouble than you're worth, Mary Poppins," he groans.
She fixes him with another glare, but the corners of her mouth are having trouble keeping the frown. "You take that back, Herbert Alfred."
He grins that nearly insufferable grin of his. "Make me," he challenges.
She sighs. "And what might I have to do to achieve this small miracle?"
"Well, an answer to that proposal certainly would 'elp speed things along."
"Was there ever any doubt I'd say yes?" she asks rhetorically. "Of course I'll marry you, Bert." She says it as if it were a fact of life. The first fact of life: people need oxygen, food, and water to survive, the second: Mary will accept Bert's proposal of marriage.
"And, o' course, nothing's so good for achieving miracles as a kiss," he continues very seriously.
"Of course," she nods, playing along. "That's what I've always said."
"No, you're always going on about that spoonful of sugar," he corrects her.
"Correct me one more time," she challenges, "and see just what kind of sugar you'll get."
He doffs his hat. "My apologies to the lady."
She laughs and grabs the lapel of his jacket, pulling him within lip range. "Satisfied?" she asks when they pull away.
"I dunno, I've 'ad better…" he answers, unsuccessfully stifling a laugh.
Her eyes narrow. "Cheeky."
He kisses her again quickly. "Miss Mary Poppins, you are worth every bit of trouble you make."
"I most certainly do not make trouble!" she huffs.
"Oh no?"
"No!"
"What about the Bird Lady fiasco?"
"Michael's fault," she replies primly.
"And getting caught in the rain?"
"Jane's."
"The tea party on the ceiling?"
"That was most definitely Uncle Albert's doing."
"And the 'orse race?"
"Well, that is simply all on you, my darling Bert. As you can see, I never make trouble."
"No, you just always seem to be lurking around wherever it is…"
"I most assuredly do not lurk! How unseemly."
"Of course not. You're practically perfect." He smiles and takes her hand, becoming serious as he finally slides the ring onto her finger. "I love this, Mary. I love it and I love you."
It's a moment of uncharacteristic weakness, but Mary asks, "Why?"
"What?"
"It's that… when you're practically perfect, people tend to fall in love with the perfection, not the person. I just wanted to know if that was the case with you. Not, of course, that it matters. You could tell me you only love me because you think my head would look lovely on a platter and I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, but I just wondered. Never mind. It was a silly fancy, I apologize."
"One day, Mary Poppins, I'm going to break you of that apologizing 'abit. Except the only problem is it's one of the things I love about you."
"Bert, I-"
"Again with the interrupting!" he scolds. "If I sit 'ere and explain all the reasons I love you, you've got to return the favor, right?"
She nods.
"Alright. I love you because you apologize and interrupt. I love you because of that foot tap you do when you get impatient. I love 'ow you cross your arms and pretend to be cross with me. I love the way you blow your 'air out of your face when you get frustrated. I love that little frown when somethin' doesn't go right exactly 'ow you planned it. I love that you're clumsy."
"Oh, honestly!" she exclaims and nearly trips over a tree root before catching herself.
"I love that you're about to argue with me over your clumsiness, e'en though you nearly just took a tumble. I love that glare you're giving me right this very second. I love that no matter what I do or say, I can get you to smile. I love that your smile makes the world stop."
"Bert-"
"Remember what I said about mucking up perfectly good speeches? I love that you muck up perfectly good speeches. I love that you think you've got your world all figured out. I love that you're thinking about hitting me at this particular moment. And that you're seriously considering it, but won't."
"A child," Mary sulks as he sends her a disarming grin. "I've agreed to marry a very large child."
"I love you because you're a sarcastic, slightly arrogant, know-it-all, 'oo 'as every reason to be one and I love that you are the kindest, most compassionate woman I've ever met in all my years. I love that you 'ave an answer for everything and are getting embarrassed listening to me go on like this. So, you see, Mary Poppins, I don't love you because you're practically perfect. If anything, I love you in spite of it. That strike your fancy?"
She nods, speechless. Well, it was a very good speech and she's rather overcome by a rush of love.
"Alright, your turn," he grins.
She smiles back. "There's one thing you should know about me, Bert."
"And what's that?"
She places a peck on his lips before striding away and calling over her shoulder, "I never explain anything!"
The laughter that drifts back to him is far more musical than anything Beethoven ever managed and Bert stares for a moment before sprinting to catch her.
I told you; nothing meaty here! All fluff and cotton candy! (And sunshine and rainbows!)
Au revoir!
-Juli-