Hey! Just a little one-shot here I wrote quite randomly. Hope you like it and please drop me a review at the end!
X =D
Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes. :D
Red
Red. Before he met her, that word used to make him think of fire, of blood and hatred and rage – all the things he saw on a daily basis, all the things he was used to and were familiar to him. But now, it makes him think of heat, passion and desire, love and power. It is the colour of her lips when she shoots those coy, almost suggestive smiles across the office at him. It is his favourite colour on her; it contrasts against the paleness of her skin, brings out her eyes and makes her look like the sexiest woman on earth. It is the colour of the bodice she was wearing in the Edgehampton vault, the satin corset that made her breasts look fantastic, made her look irresistible.
And now, he knows, red is the colour of the lace on her favourite pair of knickers which are, it turns out, actually very posh, and very French. They're his favourite pair too. Red is the colour of her nails as they dig into his back and as she screams out his name in the dead of night, sometimes drawing blood. Red - again. Red is the colour of the heels she wore to their first date – the heels she was still wearing hours later, though all other clothing had been discarded. And red is also the colour of the dress she was wearing the day he first met her, the day she first waltzed into his world and turned it completely upside down and inside out.
Red. It glimmers and shines up at him as he looks down at it, set against silver and surrounded by diamonds, nestled in black satin. His wallet and bank account are aching as he looks down at it, so he snaps shut the lid of the small black box and places it carefully in his pocket, where it lays in wait.
She is wearing a deep crimson dress when he picks her up, her hair perfectly framing her face, lips the colour of passion, nails newly painted, red heels on again. She looks gorgeous, beautiful, perfect, just as she always does. She smiles, and he smiles back before leading her downstairs and out into the twilight. On the horizon, the sun is setting, and he can identify a line of dark red amongst the gold and orange of the haze.
"You're being very quiet tonight," she remarks as they take a detour on the way to the restaurant; he wants to walk her to the park, where red roses grow close to the bandstand, the fading light picking out the desire and love in the colour of their petals.
"Got something I want t' ask yer," he says, and his voice is gruff, laden with nerves as they stop. He glances at the roses, at the setting sun, and finally his gaze settles on her face. Red has never failed him so far, and he only hopes that it was the right choice for this final step. Slowly, he takes the box from his pocket and, in an uncharacteristic romantic gesture, goes down on one knee. The shock on her face is evident as, with slightly shaking hands, he lifts the lid of the box to reveal to her the ruby and diamond ring inside.
"Will you marry me, Bols?" he asks, watching with a knotting stomach and nervous expression as her red lips part softly, before tugging into a gentle smile. Her gaze meets his, and the smile turns to a grin.
"Yes," she whispers, tears glimmering in her eyes as he slips the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit. He stands up, wincing as his knee clicks slightly.
"Don't cry, Bols, doesn't do wonders fer me self-esteem," he says, teasingly as she smiles at him, happiness evident in her shining eyes. And in that one moment, it's not about red anymore; it's about the liquid hazel colour of her eyes, the happiness in their depths, the almost amber tint to them as she glances down at the ring on her finger, then back up at him.
"Sorry, I just... I love you."
He grins. "I love you too, yer daft mare." With that, he pulls her close and his lips meet her red ones in a loving, tender kiss that tells her everything she already knows.
Red. Before he met her, that word used to make him think of fire, of blood and hatred and rage – all the things he saw on a daily basis, all the things he was used to and were familiar to him. But now, it makes him think of heat, passion and desire, love and power. It is the colour of the bouquet she carried on their wedding day; the red roses and tulips that Shaz expertly caught. It is the colour of their front door, letting him know that wherever she is, is home. And red is also the colour of her face as she screams and cries, gripping his hand tighter than she's ever gripped it before, screaming herself hoarse, face red, weary and sweaty as she fights to bring their baby girl into the world. Red embodies her, suits her, becomes her. It's his favourite colour on her, and their daughter's too. Because it is because of her, and her clever, funny, sexy, loving ways, that red no longer makes him think of fire, blood, hatred and rage. She took that and turned it into something good, turned him into something good. Red is her colour, their colour.
Well, I hope you enjoyed that – just a little Galex fluff to keep the flame alive – thanks for reading, and please review!
X =D