A hand slips into the back pocket of his jeans, four fingers, leaving her thumb to tease at him; which she is infinitely good at. He glances at her, but her face remains innocently blank, the type of blankness that has guilt written all over it. He grins, and her face mirrors this as she slides herself against him briefly. He never expected her to be like this, playful, teasing. He'd experienced her sense of humour, more than once, but after what they'd been through he'd expected her to be more serious.
And she had been, for a while. Bringing a smile to her face during the period after so many of her friends had died was so very hard. George Mason, Paula Schaeffer, the thirty or so other colleagues that had died, their memories haunted her dreams. And when she was awake, she was haunted by worse things. Threats from her former boss of exposing them for abusing the system, the disapproval of Ryan Chappelle after they'd bribed their freedom from him, her brother's refusal to acknowledge her at all. All of these had eaten at her, tormented her, hidden that entrancing smile that had captivated him.
But that had been months ago, and even such devastation can be recovered from. She's strong, stronger than he could have ever realised, and he draws from that strength as she draws from him. Sadness occasionally shadows her face, memories of pain so engrained into her that it's inevitable. But she smiles, laughs, kisses him in the middle of the street just to make him blush. And he does, every time. Despite the pain, despite all of the things that should have left him locked away in a psychiatric ward, he's happy.
She'd been the cause of something else too, something unexpected. Jack Bauer, a man who he had damned into the pits of hell more than once, had become a friend. But more than that, he felt something stronger, a bond that connected them. He had of course felt the same betrayal as Jack, Nina had affected them both. But it wasn't until now that he actually felt sympathy. It had nothing to do with betrayal, Tony was past Nina, had nothing to tie him to her, no reason to feel anything for her. It was to do with love. If something happened to Michelle, if he couldn't see that smile, couldn't melt into eyes that understood every aspect of him, he would be torn.
In a way, it was stupid. Every minute Michelle wasn't near him he felt a longing for her, and every second he was with her was an agony as he longed to be closer to her. Even now, walking to the car after an evening spent eating fairly bad food and drinking alcohol so watered down it wasn't worthy of the title, he longed for her. A flowery scent from her hair, along with the more subtle scent of her perfume, filled his mouth, seeping into him. And he knows, with a perfect clarity, that this is what he wants. He's happier now, wandering across a car park with her arm slung across his back and slotting into his back pocket, than he has ever been.
Which is a good thing really. There's a rather expensive engagement ring in his pocket, and it was rather a lot of money to spend if he wasn't sure. She wouldn't want an expensive ring, he knows that, too lavish, she prefers subtlety. But he wants her to have something, needs to show her what it means to him, to be able to be happy, to be able to wake up with his face buried against soft hair and softer skin. And he really does have sympathy for Jack, because if she says no, that would be it. He knows she won't, but he needs her answer anyway, just to be sure. He wonders how close they'll get to the car before he can't stand it anymore.
Kissing the top of her head and pulling her into a hug, he decides about his far.