Under This Moon
Acepilot

AN - No.16 in the "Road" series, written for the T/L Love Page Songfic Challenge. The song featured is the b-side to the latest Nick Cave single - it was really surprisingly inspiring. Top stuff, especially for a b-side. I hope you all enjoy this story. It's what I write for. This story was written on a caffeine rush. Oh, and the amusing author is Terry Pratchett, the quote is from the Discworld novel "Sourcery".

Disclaimer - Tommy, Lil and the cast of RR/AGU are the property of Klasky-Csupo. The song "Under This Moon" was written by Nick Cave.
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"Where are you taking me?"

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, now, would it?" I pointed out to her, and she huffed angrily.

"That wasn't the answer I was hoping for, Thomas."

I grin and pull her into my arms for a moment, pressing my lips gently to hers - barely a peck really. "I was hoping you'd trust me, Lillian."

I can't see her eyes, but I don't have to. She's grinning broadly as she hooks an arm around my neck, pulling me back to kiss me again. "Not on your life, Pickles."

It's almost like we're drunk or something. Maybe we are. At the risk of sounding hopelessly corny and overly romantic, we're drunk on each other. In the words of one of the more amusing authors of our time, I'm so high you could bounce intercontinental TV off me. This is what being young and in love is all about. As much as it's about angst and dread and pain, it's about enjoyment, about bliss, about simple, pure happiness, the kind that borders on silliness.

We've had our pain. Now it's our turn to be silly.

"Come on," I say, grabbing her hand again. "It's not much further."

"Good," she says, allowing me to pull her along. "Because if it is, then you're carrying me."

"I see no reason that can't be arranged," I whisper in her ear in the most sultry voice I can summon, but it's somewhat ruined by the fact that I can't quite keep a straight face. She can't either, and cracks up laughing, collapsing against my side in hysterical giggles, which only serves to drag me down with her. In moments the two of us are rolling around on the ground in fits of laughter, looking, I'm sure, quite a sight. But hey. This is what being young and in love is all about. And I'm going to enjoy this beautiful evening with my lover, and I'm not going to give two hoots if I look stupid doing it.

I finally manage to bring her over the crest of the hill, reaching behind her head and tugging the blindfold loose, which she immediately rips off her face. "I swear, Tommy Pickles, the next time you approach me with a blindfold I'm going to be sensible and say 'no' straight away," she mutters, flinging the cloth at me.

"Why did you say yes this time?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"In the hopes that romance was involved," she tells me, taking my hands in hers. I slide my palms up the back of her arms, cupping her elbows in my palms.

"We're on a hill under a near-full-moon," I point out. "And you think romance isn't involved?"

She grins and leans in to peck me on the cheek. "You never disappoint, do you?"

"I live to please you, my dear," I tell her, offering a deep, formal bow.

"You're lucky I'm not the kind who would take advantage of a statement like that."

I wrap an arm around her shoulder and guide her a little further across the hill. "Your dinner awaits, madam."

Alright, so I'm not ashamed to admit that I got some help with this part of the plan. I make no claims to be able to cook, you see. So I rustled up my only viable resource in that department - Dil. I've used up all my favors to make sure this evening went perfectly. I used three favors from Dil to get the meal. I used a favor from Suzie to help Dil set it all up. And I called in a favor from Phil to make sure he didn't follow us.

So, when she sees the immaculately laid picnic rug, complete with candles, basket full of assorted goodies, and all accentuated by the gorgeous moonlight and utters, "Oh, Tommy, it's wonderful," I have a slight pang of guilt, and know that I'm going to have to be extra nice to all involved for at least two months.

I take her hand as formally as I can manage without having an urge to just grab her and ravage her now - it's a touch-and-go moment, but my strength prevails knowing that we're more likely to have fun once we're fed and watered - and lead her to the rug, where she falls to her knees and folds her legs up under her. I follow suit, and my heart suddenly starts racing. This has gone well enough so far. How much longer it all holds out for is another question.

I pour the wine delicately. Good thing we're on grass, or else I'd smash the glasses for sure. As it is, I manage not to drop them, but it's a near thing.

Must remind Chuckie not to do this if he ever gets himself a girlfriend.

I offer her a glass and she shakes her head at me, almost as if in amazement. "Y'know, every time I think I've got you figured out, you go and do something completely unexpected."

I raise an eyebrow. "You don't think I can be romantic?"

She shakes her head quickly, anxiously. "Oh, no. I knew you could be romantic. But this is something else entirely."

"Well, I did want the actual full moon, but it was already booked," I tell her, sipping my own wine a bit nervously, hoping to hell that she hasn't noticed the fact that my hands are trembling like nobody's business.

She giggles, and it relieves a bit of tension from my shoulders. "This is perfect, Tommy."

That relieved a lot of tension. "What can I interest you in?" I ask, indicating the basket.

"Surprise me," she says, flashing me that mischievous little grin, peering at me from over the top of her wine glass with the candlelight playing off the humor in her eyes.

"As you wish." Right. What did Dil cook?

I emerge victorious from the basket with a light, economical, but still extravagant meal - just two courses and some bread, but hey - that's all we needed.

"Is that chicken?"

God I hope so. "Yep."

She quirks her eyebrow at me, but other than that just grins. "Okay."

I manage to tentatively set out two plates of the hopefully-chicken and salad, with a roll on the side of each of them. There's a near-disaster when I very almost drop the salad container, but thankfully disaster is averted with nothing more than a slightly disbelieving grin from my beloved.

I pass her a plate, thankful that neither of us feel the necessity to talk. I always found it difficult to have discussions during meals. I think she does too, so thankfully it isn't much of a strain on our relationship. I just hope it stays that way. Or that if one of us changes, both of us do.

We're too compatible to stop being so now.

"Is there desert?" She asks when we're finished, refilling our wine glasses. The candles are burning down and the scent of the flowers of the gardens hangs heavy on the early-evening air. It makes the entire world smell sweet, for some reason making this whole scenario even more dreamlike and impossibly beautiful.

I look in the basket. "Yep."

She chuckles. "So, what did Dil make for us?"

I knew she never really believed that I had prepared the meal. It just kind of bit that I couldn't have fooled her at all. "Apple crumble."

"My favorite," she whispers, shuffling across the blanket to sit closer to me.

"I know. I told him," I return, sliding next to her, so close that her breath is warm on my face, so close that I just have to lean a little forward to press my lips to hers.

"Good," she whispers, then her actions mirror my thoughts, and I feel her petal-soft lips against my own. I never get tired of this feeling. I never can get tired of this feeling. Every time I kiss her, it impossibly makes me feel...it's like it's our first kiss all over again. The electricity in my gut, the way my body tingles from the tips of my fingers to the base of my spine, and the way my legs feel like they're going to give out entirely.

Her legs do give out entirely, and we fall from a kneeling position on the rug to lying down in the pale moonlight, my hand brushing her beautiful brown hair, accentuated by that lone streak of red, away from her eyes.

"I love you," she whispers to me.

"And I love you," I return, capturing her lips, dessert forgotten...

---

I kiss her gently on the forehead. "I think I just died and went to heaven," I mutter, collapsing back onto the rug, pulling my abandoned coat over the two of us as some sort of protection against the elements. And people, of course, though I'd be highly surprised if anyone just happened to be wandering by and caught a glimpse of the two of us. The joggers preferred the park.

Hang on. All this thinking is distracting me from what really matters.

So with that, I look down merely at the content, beautiful woman tucked in under my arm, her head nestled in the crook of my neck. "I think that heaven's got nothing on this." She kisses me on the cheek before snuggling into me again, making an almost-drugged sigh. "I've never been this happy in my life."

Right. Perfect cue. Perfect moment. Nothing stopping you, nothing to lose. Well, everything to lose, but hey - nothing ventured nothing gained. Nothing lost either, unless maybe I wait too long, and -

My hand, of it's own volition, has crept into the pocket of the coat that is laying on top of us, and found a small, oblong object.

"You're happy?"

She raises her head slightly and looks at me with odd puzzlement. "Yes, of course."

"Wanna marry me, then?"

I had a speech. I had a beautiful, long, drawn out speech about the beauty of love, the shortness of life, and the wonder that is Lillian DeVille. But somehow it all seemed overblown in that one moment. And no matter what I had planned, no matter what I could have said, it was this moment that counted.

"Do I want to what?"

"Marry me," I tell her.

Here, under the light of the moon, the dim light of the dying candles flickering over us, holding her in my arms, I've never been happier. It's never gone so right, and life has never been so beautiful. It's as if all my lucky stars are shining down on me, as if this one night, everything's arrayed for me. For us.

"Yes, I do want to marry you," she says.

For us.

If I wasn't naked and holding a naked girl close to my body, I'd have seriously jumped around for joy right that moment.

I flick open the ringbox with my thumb and present it to her, and she lets out a little squeal. As much as she likes to deny it, she has her girly-girly moments. And they're so cute, I wouldn't miss them for the world. I grasp the ring and shake it loose from the box, letting the case fall to the ground and sliding the ring onto her finger.

"Let's do it now."

Let's what?

"Pardon?"

She looks away from the ring, into my eyes. "Let's go get married now."

"What, like, elope?"

She nods, mischief evident in those eyes of hers. "Yeah! It'd be great!"

"Our parents would kill us!" I whisper, but my voice has gone high-pitched in excitement. Adrenaline is suddenly pulsing through my veins.

"Who cares? We can do some big reception thingy for them some other time. But I don't care about a big wedding - " she pauses to consider that - "well, okay, yes, I do kind of - " which she neatly recovers from - "but I care more about starting my life with you."

"Do you think we can do this on our own?" I ask, sitting up slightly, pulling the coat closer around us and flailing blindly for my pants, not taking my eyes off the girl in there with me.

"No. Rustle up the gang. But it needs to be tonight, don't you think? Under this moon?"

She's right. Under this moon, these stars. Everything's gone right, no reason to think it would stop now. "Yeah. You're right," I whisper, pressing my lips to hers again. "I love you."

"And I love you," she returns this time, and my heart suddenly feels so full. I've just made the decision to live with this woman for the rest of my life, starting this instant, and I don't want to miss a second of it.

Though it pains me to let go of her, I must, allowing her to get up and start seeking out her clothes while I pull on my trousers. "We're insane," I announce, counting the buttons on my shirt. I was afraid one or two might have been missing, but thankfully they're all present and accounted for.

"And you wouldn't have it any other way," she tells me, scooping up her clothes and kissing me on the cheek. "Now let's go do this."

I'm getting married.

This is unreal.

And as we race back to the car, it's a game. I run after her, hooking an arm around her waist and pecking her on the lips before dancing away from her gamely, teasing her to follow.

This is what love is all about. Romance, beauty. And of course the silliness.

And now I get to enjoy it for the rest of my life.

And there's no-one I'd rather do it with.

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