A Series of Unfortunate Clichés: Part Five: Moving Day
Disclaimer: They still are not mine. Hopefully that is reasonably clear by now. Although unfortunate.
Notes: Again, I'm very much appreciative of all the wonderful reviews you are taking the time to write; I'm incredibly grateful that you have been enjoying it enough to want more. So: here is more.
I really don't take myself or this fic seriously. If I did, it would probably be called "A Series of Serious Events". Or, for the kicks of alliteration: "A Series of Serious Sets of Situations". Anyway, point being: this next part might get quite fluffy, but I hope that it is balanced by enough humour to not make myself become a fully-fledged seriousfluff writer. I've never attempted to write this particular cliché before (for fear of fluff) so I'm a little more anxious than usual about writing it. Hence, feedback is particularly appreciated.
She is the first to enter their new house on the day that they move in. Her jeans ride precariously low on her hips but with a box balanced on her knee, held in place by an elbow, and her hands full with keys and sunglasses - causing her to attempt to use a finger to open the door - there is nothing that she can do.
The box of shoes – and she doesn't quite know why this was her first item to bring inside – threatens to topple as she attempts to bring her foot back down to the ground.
From behind her an arm reaches out to push the door open. She turns slightly to see Tony. Beside him stands an unfamiliar male with an obvious familial resemblance.
"Michelle, this is my brother, Rick. Rick, Michelle," Tony introduces them. "Rick's going to help us move in."
"Hey," Rick greets her.
She smiles, greeting him in response, attempts to hold out a hand to meet his, but only belatedly realises that the box is balanced more precariously than originally thought. It falls, landing with a thud on Tony's foot.
Her eyes grow wide in embarrassment. "Sorry!" she exclaims as he yelps in surprise.
"You have too many shoes," he groans. And then groans again. It's a little over-played and she immediately realises that he is not seriously injured.
She notices that Rick attempts to hide a grin as he leans down to pick up the box. He pretends to struggle with its weight.
She moves to Tony, rolling her eyes at him as he places one hand on her shoulder to help steady himself on one foot.
"Let me inspect the damage," she tells him.
"It's probably broken," he complains. "I'll never be able to walk again."
"It wasn't that heavy," she informs him, one eyebrow raised.
He makes a big deal about hobbling in through the front door.
"Need me to carry you over the threshold?" she comments wryly.
He mock-glares at her as he makes his way over to the stairs. "You're going to have to do the rest of the moving," he tells her. "I'll sit here and direct."
She moves his hand off her shoulder quickly, causing him to over-balance and place his "injured" foot on the floor. He belatedly realises that he should have had a reaction, and feebly yelps again.
"It's a miracle," she mocks. "And you thought you'd never walk again. Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll be able to help with the moving, after all."
For a few seconds he pretends to sulk. She whispers in his ear, something indiscernible to Rick who stands a few meters away. Tony cheers up almost immediately, grinning.
"So, shall we start with the bedroom furniture?" he asks brightly.
Rick smirks.
Later other people come to help them out. The work is laborious and tedious, but even through this Michelle finds it difficult to contain her excitement about the new house.
They are all quite glad to take a rest when the couches are finally placed in the correct spot. This in itself has been quite a task, as Michelle and Tony "discussed" the various merits of different positions, and the "correct" direction for a couch to face (directly TV-facing versus centre of the room; a compromise is finally reached in which one faces the TV and the other is at a 90 degree angle from it).
Afterwards Michelle takes Casey on a grand tour as she turns up to help out.
"And these are the three bedrooms: ours, a guest room, and what Tony likes to call my overflow closet. Which will, in fact, end up being a study. Or Tony's Cubs appreciation room."
"It's all so grown-up; getting a house together and everything that comes with it. You're not getting married anytime soon, I take it?" Casey inquires, smiling.
"We've barely even discussed it seriously," she admits. "It's probably the last thing on his mind right now, let alone mine; renting a house together is commitment enough for now," she claims. Casey is not entirely convinced that she is speaking the truth.
"I like her," Rick tells his brother as they return to the van for another load. "I mean, I can't believe that it's taken what, seven months, to finally meet her. Especially after all I've heard for the past year and a half is "Michelle this" and "Michelle that"…"
"I never said any of that," he denies fervently, yet unsure whether his brother is being truthful or not. He imagines that there is some truth to his comments. It causes him to smile. "We were just colleagues back then."
Rick smirks. "Yeah, colleagues. Nothing more, right? I could see this coming a mile off," he informs his older brother.
"I may have liked her a little back then, but we worked together; that was all there was," he refutes, half-successful in his attempt to not grin.
Rick laughs. "Believe it; don't believe it. It doesn't matter. I do like her though. She's far nicer than any of your other girlfriends. All, what, three of them? The parents were beginning to worry that you'd never get yourself married off. You should bring her to meet them. They're getting pissed that you haven't yet given them the opportunity to meet her."
"They'll meet her soon enough," Tony comments. "I have plans," he says ominously. Rick decides that his tone of voice will not welcome questioning.
It is much later, after everyone has gone home. They slouch on the couch, exhausted. She lies with her head on his shoulder, unable to move physically, but mentally concerned about the vast array of boxes that adorn their new home.
"My brother liked you," he comments after a particularly long pause in conversation.
She smiles. "I'm glad. I liked him too. Maybe we could arrange to meet up with him sometime?"
"Maybe. Maybe you could meet my sisters and my parents, too," he suggests, attempting to sound nonchalant.
"That would be… nice," she declares, attempting not to demonstrate her apprehension. Previous familial meetings of ex-boyfriends have not always gone to plan, but even ignoring that fact she would still be anxious.
"I promise that they'll all be very nice and behave. I'd threaten them beforehand," he informs her, half-seriously. He absentmindedly draws circles on the exposed skin on her arm.
"I'm not sure if I should subject you to my family."
He laughs. "I'm sure they're not that bad. Besides, I'd like to meet them. Eventually I'm going to, anyway."
"Eventually?" she asks, puzzled.
There is a brief pause as he considers his next words.
"I think you should marry me."
"Why?" she challenges, teasing, not entirely sure what to make of the comment, partly through nervousness.
"Because I'm handsome and smart and have a good job," he deadpans.
"Still, I might be able to do better," she jokes.
He says nothing, but gets up from the couch and for a moment she considers what she has said, worrying about it in case she has unintentionally caused offence.
Instead he says, "Wait there."
"Tony?" she asks, confused.
"Wait there," he repeats. He runs up the stairs, returning a few moments later.
"I've been waiting all day for us to have some time to ourselves because I couldn't stand waiting any longer," he tells her. He digs his hand into his pocket and produces a small box.
She is initially cautious: "Tony, what are you doing? What are you doing?" she questions, eyes wide with shock as he moves into position in front of her on one knee. "Oh my god." He opens the box.
"Marry me," he says.
She panics, and in shock her brain doesn't engage in the way that she had hoped it would at this particular moment in her life. "Sorry about earlier," she apologises, garbling. "With the questioning. I didn't realise you were serious," she frets. "I didn't mean…"
She stops talking, attempts to re-engage her brain in hopes that it will eventually both process the moment and produce a coherent response.
He remains on one knee, still waiting patiently for an answer. "If you could give me an answer sometime this century, I'd really appreciate it because my knee is starting to kill me," he says, somewhat nervously. Obviously, he was hoping for an immediate "Oh, but Tony, I'd love to; I've waited my whole life for this moment, could our lives be any more perfect?" or something slightly more Michelle-like. A simple "yes/sure, why not/I've got nothing else to do" would suffice at this moment.
He hopes that this is merely a processing problem: they haven't really discussed marriage in any depth and so it may be a slight shock to her. To him, however, it feels like the right step and the right time.
"So, I was thinking: I love you. It's possible that when you're not trying to mock me or kill me with your shoes you love me too. So, with that in mind, I would quite like it if you could give me an answer to the question I am about to ask… again."
"The others were more of a statement than a question," she comments before being able to stop herself, her brain still not processing in a way that she is entirely understanding or appreciating. She apologises again for interrupting. She smiles self-consciously, not relying on her mouth to say the right words but hopes that her eyes might be able to convey some of their meaning. He smiles back and their eyes meet and he seems to understand. Hopefully he comprehends that she is not entirely adverse to the option, despite her lack of appropriate response.
"Will you marry me?" he asks, ring out in front, emphasising the "will" as a question.
She smiles shyly. And finally, her brain and her mouth are able to work effectively in tandem. "I'd love to."
End.
Please let me know if you enjoyed.