Bleeding Love | Chapter Thirty Six

Thank you to everyone who is reading this, you're all so lovely in your feedback. I genuinely grin like an idiot whenever I get a review. If anyone has any time and hasn't already read it, I know some of you said you might be interested in a new Tom/Nicki fic so I've begun a new story called All's Loud on the Western Front and I'd really appreciate it if you'd tell me what you think x

Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken

~ the wonderful William Shakespeare

Imagining all of the things that could go wrong tonight made him feel sick. He couldn't count the scenarios in his head; they were so plentiful, swarming like the most persistent bees around a crowd of children with ice creams. What if Nicki didn't like the food? What if he, as Josh had suggested, really did give her food poisoning, and she ended up in A&E on what should have been an evening of ecstasy? And what if she disliked the ring?

What if she said no?

"It'll be fine, Dad," Josh had said on his way out of the door, still grinning, "Text me when she says yes. Or no. But she won't say no."

He hadn't known what to wear. He'd put on a woolly jumper (so that she wouldn't notice he was trembling) but taken it off again straight away because he looked ridiculous. In the end, he'd settled for a crisp white shirt over jeans, and then he'd washed his hair over the sink and borrowed Josh's hairdryer. He still looked a bit scruffy, but she wouldn't be with him if she disliked scruffiness, would she?

His phone vibrated at ten to seven. Sorry, I walked fast, I'm outside now. Are you ready? x

What, did she think he'd have her hover in the porch for ten minutes? His heart was literally in his throat. There was another thing that could go wrong: he might have a heart attack, and she'd end up pounding his chest rather than curling with her head on it. Don't go there, Tom.

He opened the front door before he could change his mind. "Hello."

"Hi," she said, stepping up into the hallway and kissing him lightly on the cheek. She smelled gorgeous. She looked gorgeous, a little black skirt and tights, with a purple scarf nestled around her neck.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled. He took her hand and led her through into the living room, where he poured them each a glass of wine.

She sat down by his side on the sofa and sipped her wine. Her lips moved delicately around the rim of the glass. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem a bit– I don't know, different. Do you feel ill or something?"

"No. No, Nicki, I–" he put his wine down hastily, scared he was going to splash it down his shirt.

"Tom?"

The concern in Nicki's voice made him overflow with happiness, just the fact that she cared, the way she seemed to love him just as much as he loved her. Why was he scared of doing this when it was the most natural thing in the world?

"I had all these ideas about how I wanted to do this, all romantic, you know. But I don't need to do that, because–" he shoved his hand behind the cushion and pulled out a wrapper from a Mars Bar; he screwed it up and found the ring box instead. He slid down from the sofa and knelt in front of her. "I love you, Nicki. Please, marry me."

She dumped her glass on the table, slid down beside him and hugged him viciously. There were tears in her eyes when she pulled away. "Really?"

I'm not doing this for the hell of it. "I love you. I have never loved anyone more in my life, except for Josh, of course. Whatever happens, I want to be there with you, I don't want us ever to be apart again."

He hadn't thought it was possible for her to hug him tighter, but she did. They kissed until he had no oxygen left in his lungs. Every other part of their relationship so far had been complicated, and now this was easy, as easy as breathing.

"Well? Will you?"

"Of course I will, you stupid bugger."

"I'll go and find the champagne, then," he said. He tried to stand up and found himself stumbling forwards again. She'd obviously jumped onto his knees a bit enthusiastically for his body's liking. "Are you sure, Nicki? I mean, I'm a bit of an old codger now, I–"

She helped him to his feet, "Then you're my old codger. Look, Tom, if you hadn't been there, I– well, I don't know what I would have done. You have been my rock, and I mean that, you and Josh; you've kept me alive."

He found he didn't want to let go of her hand, so he led her through to the kitchen and she helped him pour the champagne. The bubbles danced in his nose and mouth, and the delight danced in his heart.

"I love you," she said.

"Mm," he said, his head buried in her neck, her hair falling over him, "I love you too. I should text Josh, really, I said I would; he'll be pleased to know I haven't botched it up. He was a bit worried about me losing the ring in a teapot and you choking on it or something."

"A teapot?"

"Ah, welcome to my world, Miss Boston."

They'd always been relatively restrained with one another, before now. They'd always had so much between them, the knowledge of how much Nicki had gone through holding them back, each of them cautious, exploring one another. It sounded stupid even to himself, he knew he'd never be able to explain it to anyone, but that was the way it was, and now the caution was stripped away, because they each loved one another and nothing else mattered.

So, once Tom had texted Josh, and Josh had called him and passed the phone on to Finn, and Finn had yelled, "Congrats, Miss and Sir!" down the line, they finished their champagne, and then he led her upstairs and they went to bed together.

She didn't flinch when he ran his fingers along the scars on her back. He tickled her feet gently, and she laughed, a tinkly laugh, like Christmas bells in the darkness. The warmth of his body next to hers was the closest, Tom thought, that he'd ever get to heaven.

XxXxX

I always give Tom and Nicki a hard time. I know this is incredibly soppy, but I thought they deserved a bit of happiness! Please review x