A/N: I've had this idea for a month (possibly more) and I'd sworn I'd write it for Valentine's Day. I (almost) managed and considering finals and everything I had to do the last few days, I am just happy that I got this done. I hope you'll enjoy. (This definitely became longer than originally planned.)
"Valtor?" Griffin was looking at him as if he was an illusion and she couldn't believe the sight in front of her. It was untypical, almost impossible, for him to get home before her so the shock on her face was natural but it morphed into a soft smile as she ran into his arms.
"I take it you like your surprise then?" he let the smugness in his voice as he wrapped her in his embrace to cover up the internal shaking that could spill out in his body language. He still had to get them through the rest of the evening he'd planned out and for all his confidence in business meetings, he was swallowing his heart at every step providing the opportunity to mess up. It was a far more delicate matter than anything he'd ever done before. He wanted it to be right. For Griffin. She'd given him so much that he could only hope he was returning. It had to be perfect.
"Mm, I love it," Griffin clung to him as if he was a gift teddy bear that she never planned to part with and who was he to object to the affection he was getting? "I'm just not sure how it happened," she looked up in his eyes. "Not that I'm complaining," she was quick to reassure and give him another smile that gave his heart the first peaceful pause in hours. "I just want to know to what I owe the pleasure."
"I decided to cash in some of my boss privileges and leave earlier," the words nearly fizzled out at the softness filling her gaze and her widening smile. She was looking at him like he'd hung the stars on the sky for her and it made him wish to sell the company and be a stay-at-home husband if he'd get that look every time she came home to him. He couldn't do that. Not even for her, no matter how much he ached to do so. He could never part with the company even if the world burned because of it. (But not her. He'd never let her burn.) There was room for a little fantasy, though. Even if that one had to stay just that unlike some of the others she'd made come true in the space of their relationship and the bedroom.
Lazy mornings at home, sending her off to work with a thermo cup full of her favorite tea he'd made while she was getting ready and a goodbye kiss, going grocery shopping for her favorite foods. He couldn't cook for her and would only destroy the kitchen that she'd put a lot of thought in constructing when she'd moved in so that was off the table, unfortunately. But he could find other ways to take care of her if he had the time. The time he couldn't afford. His position in the company would haunt him even with someone else taking it. Just like the family he'd had before haunted him through her enveloping presence to leave chills between her warm body and his hands.
"What are we celebrating?" Griffin grounded him back in their privacy and, as much as he missed his fantasy already, he had to stay in the moment. Her eyes were still on him, unaware of the surroundings as if waiting for him to take the lead and paint the picture of the atmosphere around them in her mind. He had to be careful with his strokes.
"We're celebrating us." He didn't need a special occasion to do something romantic for her. But he did hope that it would be. This day, October 9th, could become one of the most special ones for them if he could give it to her. And to himself.
He was fairly certain in himself, in them, but there was always some leftover insecurities ringing in his head to remind him he'd never been enough for anyone. Not that he'd had many close relationships in his life. Or any, for that matter. Griffin was the first. She was the only one, and he was as certain in that as he'd been made insecure with the insults and taunts drilled into his head. He couldn't let them take over him now. It was time to leave them behind and move on with his life. Hopefully, with Griffin's hand in his, their hearts full of their feelings for each other. Forever.
"I set up dinner for us," he motioned to the coffee table where he'd laid out everything.
Griffin loved to be unconventional and eat there–the dinner table made for a too official and stiff atmosphere–while they were sitting next to each other on the floor pressed into each other and far closer than chairs would allow. It made the place truly their own, like he was finally home, and it was the most special experience he'd shared with another.
"Where'd you order from?" Griffin asked, a teasing glint in her eyes that he rolled his at playfully. It was best he didn't try his hand at cooking on his own so no harm, no foul. "Why is it so dark in here?" Griffin turned to look at the meal he'd had prepared for them but it was a task none too easy in the dim light barely seeping in the penthouse through the heavy fabric hanging in front of the window and the door to the balcony. "Are those... the drapes?" Griffin turned back to him, the look in her eyes darkened by a shade of wariness.
"Yes." She'd liked them, ever the private person that she was–even when nothing overlooked the penthouse and the only way for anyone to see through their windows was to fly by with a helicopter–and he'd gotten them for her, the maroon cloth so soft to the touch that it made you wonder if it hadn't been meant for a blanket. "We don't necessarily need them but since you liked them, I thought I'd get them."
She still had that default reaction to his presents sometimes even after they'd talked about it and he'd reassured her that it was always done out of love and care for her–probably part of the problem since she wasn't used to it–and it burned to see her like that when his intention had been to make her happy. She'd made it clear she didn't want him spending thousands on her no matter how much money he made and he did his best to respect her wishes and not go overboard with his presents. She was happy with the small things too, especially if they were plants, but he wanted her to have everything she wanted, even if she insisted all she wanted was him (and that he couldn't get tired of hearing but he would also never get tired of spoiling her).
"Are you sure you want them too?" She was chewing on the inside of her mouth discreetly in her worry for him.
"I'm actually quite fond of the color you've picked," he pulled her closer again while he pretended to look at the drapes in consideration, even though he could barely see anything when the fabric blocked out most of the remaining light of the sunset. "They're also very soft." She could've picked orange drapes with yellow stripes for all he cared and he would've liked them still if they'd make her happy but that was the opposite of what he needed to tell her. She insisted on not forcing him to like things just because she did and he appreciated it–how could he not after what his life had looked like–but he could never look on making her happy as a sacrifice.
"Really?" her attention turned on the drapes now that his words had reached her to calm her heart. "I couldn't quite tell about their texture from the catalog," she was out of his arms faster than he could react and headed in the wrong direction.
"Why don't we focus on dinner for now?" Valtor strode after her and caught her before she could reach for the fabric. "The drapes won't run away." And he needed them to stay in place to keep her surprise a surprise. He wanted them to eat calmly and comfortably. Just in case what he felt in his whole being was wrong and it turned out to be their last dinner together or, at least, much less glamorous and pleasant than he hoped it to be. It would be memorable in any case. That at least was a given.
"Impatient, are we?" Griffin gave him a knowing smirk. "Okay," she relented without a fight despite the stubborn streak ready to ignite that she harbored in reflection of his own. "What did you get for us?" she turned her attention on dinner and pulled away from him to get a better look at what was laid out on the coffee table.
Valtor exhaled almost audibly. He was impatient, in a sense, but also a ball of nerves which prompted him to put off the moment of truth. There wasn't a risk in it for him but a part of him still couldn't find a reason for her to want him and be with him. No one else had wanted anything of the sort. But Griffin wasn't like the rest. She'd taken the time to uncover his layers him after he'd given her the barest glimpse of a soul hiding somewhere inside the demon he'd been known to be and she'd been patient enough to find every last piece of him, some that he himself hadn't been aware were there. He could trust her with his feelings.
"I've got those seaweeds you love," he joined her, doing his best to stop his internal fidgeting–he didn't fidget physically anymore after his mothers' "lessons" on keeping a collected facade but the feelings were still present and perhaps even more intense when they were closed up in his head with no way out–and allow himself to soak up the happiness of her company.
"And candles, too," Griffin teased, giving him that mischievous gaze that brought on memories so vivid that they may as well have been footage playing in front of him.
He'd brought some candles in the bedroom often enough for her to not get surprised by the more conventionally romantic side of him anymore. It had even gotten a bit more extreme once, some hot wax coming into play and making them spend hours in the shower later removing it, not to mention throwing out the sheets that'd been ruined. It'd been interesting and enjoyable enough but they'd decided to stick to the candles as a means to create atmosphere only as Griffin hadn't been fond of the messiness. (He himself could spend his life in the shower with her so he'd had no complaints.)
He couldn't think about sex now, though, and if that wasn't a sign that she had him in deep, then he didn't know what was. He wanted to spend time with her–all of his time–and that was enough. He needed nothing else for the world to be right. And he really wanted to tell her that.
"You're so alluring by candlelight, my love," his heart quivered in the most pleasant way at the title he allowed himself to give her. He didn't use it often but her eyes lit up like there was a volcano inside her that was erupting love instead of lava and it filled her amber irises up to the brim leaving him afraid it'd bring on tears with how impossible it was to contain.
"Thank you," Griffin's voice carried that seriousness that didn't even allow a smile to break out on her face but her eyes were speaking loudly. She was touched by the compliment and any other playful remark or tease she could've said had been abandoned in favor of the softness she was displaying. He couldn't love her more for it. It was the best proof he could hope for that he wasn't hopeless, that he knew how to bring happiness and not just destruction, that he was learning how to be his own person and not the monster he'd been forced to grow into. He'd never believed it was possible before he'd met her but there they were, side by side after all the obstacles that they'd been through and the only thing he could wish for was that she'd want to be his for the rest of their lives.
He lit the candles while Griffin made herself comfortable and then joined her on the floor. He let her feed him some of her seaweeds even if they weren't his favorite thing. He did manage to sneak in a bite or two at her fingertips and a lick at her skin here and there so as far as he was concerned, it was a win for him. And Griffin's fake pouts only prompted him to kiss her to "apologize" which had her smiling in the soft light of the candles and those images made their way into his heart to spark his courage and desire to ask the question of his life.
Somehow they ended up with Griffin between his legs and leaning back against his chest while he was braced against the couch, both of them still holding their wine glasses in their hands but Griffin was using hers mostly to gesticulate as she talked while he was swirling his own drink around, the nervousness finally spilling out of him and even his will or upbringing couldn't keep it in. He had to get down to it before he could chicken out. It would be a shame after he'd had everything planned.
"Perhaps it's time for the surprise?" Valtor looked down at her after she'd finished telling him about her girls. The young students didn't even have to try to get under her skin and her heart was big enough for all of them leaving her taking great responsibility and care for them and he was happy to see her working miracles for other people too–heaven knew how he would've been doing without the magical touch of her love–as long as she wasn't pushing herself. He could understand her desire to help the young girls and make them feel wanted and like they fit somewhere after no one had done that for her but she could only be of help if she was in good shape herself. And he was selfish enough to always put her first even when she wasn't doing the same for herself.
"Surprise?" Griffin turned around, craning her neck to look at him and the very sight of the motion and her position pained him. They both had back pain from working so hard that they didn't even remember to check if they were sitting correctly and while he wasn't complaining when that resulted in exchanged massages, he didn't want her putting more strain on herself.
"Why don't you go feel up the drapes, and while you're at it, you can also pull them away and see what's waiting for you outside?" He gave her that mysterious and self-satisfied smirk she'd confessed made her weak in the knees to direct her attention away from himself. He had to check that he had everything he needed on him and collect himself and his thoughts once again.
It was time and he grabbed at all the memories of the love she kept for him in her amber eyes and the confessions she whispered in his ears early in the morning or late at night to wrap himself in them and soften a potential fall. It was the warmth of her arms around him that was sealed into his body that brought him the most comfort, though, because she'd always been close, so close, from the very start, and she'd never taken a step back even when she'd seen his ugly sides. She'd just kept holding on to him and keeping him from hurting–himself and other people–and she'd taught him to be human with her love. And for that he'd always be grateful no matter what happened later, whether it'd be a few minutes from now or whole decades after that moment.
He left his glass on the coffee table while Griffin bolted up and to the windows. She was occupied enough to let him feel for both things he needed in his pockets. It would be the worst thing to be missing something and ruin the moment.
Griffin grabbed at the drapes and pulled them aside, showing so much emotion in her excitement that she rarely allowed herself to otherwise. The energy was bursting from her, fed by her curiosity, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from the beautiful sight. There was so much passion in her, burning so steadily and even insidiously that he pitied all those who would never have the honor to get close enough to her and witness it for themselves. The power it had and the strength it charged him with were immeasurable.
"My telescope," Griffin exclaimed as the maroon softness that she didn't even comment on was dragged out of the way to reveal the view outside their windows.
He hummed appreciatively at the words as he got up and joined her, Griffin already on her way to opening the door and letting herself out with speed that could almost make him feel forgotten in favor of the telescope. He was glad she'd let him buy it for her since it was ridiculously obvious that it was her most prized possession and she used it whenever she got an opportunity which, unfortunately, wasn't that often. They were both busy and trips outside the city where observations would be easier and more precise were a rare occurrence. The joy that took over her just at the sight of the device was a sight to observe in and of itself, though..
He'd actually asked her before buying it for her because it was a big purchase and he hadn't wanted to upset her. She'd finally relented on condition that he'd only buy her very small symbolic gifts until the end of the year and he'd had clearance to buy her the means to create so many happy memories. To this day it was his favorite gift he'd given her with the amount of positive emotion it had brought into her life.
"It's already in position," he followed her outside, the evening air starting to get chilly at this time of the year but that didn't register for her. "You just have to look through it and tell me if you like what you see." He smiled at her and nodded to encourage her.
Griffin bit her lip as a new wave of anticipation swept over her and slowly leaned down to look at the star he'd pointed the telescope to. He'd paid enough attention to learn how to orient the device to specific coordinates when she'd shown him. He hadn't needed anyone's help to set the telescope which was much appreciated after all the meddling he'd already been subjected to.
Faragonda hadn't stopped sticking her nose into it and dropping hints that hadn't been nearly as subtle as she'd thought them to be and had left him on edge until Griffin had steered the conversation in a different direction. He'd been grateful, of course, but he hadn't been able to get the question of when she'd get tired of his stalling out of his mind and that had only brought on more anxiety that hadn't helped one bit. Not him, and certainly not Griffin who'd probably kept asking herself when he'd get to it while she'd been trying to remain patient.
It had been only his own fear of the outcome that had kept him from rushing things but he couldn't have done that to either one of them. It wouldn't have been right and he'd was only going for it now that he was ready. He just hoped she hadn't moved too far past ready during his hesitation.
"It's beautiful," Griffin said, her voice breathy like she couldn't find enough air to speak at the sight of the star.
It was bright enough to be seen even with all the interfering lights from the city. He could've brought her to a remote place where that wouldn't be a problem–a little escape from their routine–but he'd wanted to do it in the penthouse. It was their home and it only felt right to ask her to be his family there. And luckily for him, his problem had been easily solvable. Otherwise, they may have had to wait another year until he'd had a powerful enough telescope constructed to allow him to proceed with his plan.
"Good, because I have a certificate for it here," he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket–she'd been too distracted to ask why he hadn't taken it off all evening–and pulled out the envelope with the exquisitely looking carton. "It's all named and practically ours," he handed it to her while she looked at him in awe, her lips slightly parted and her eyes locked with his before she moved to take the white paper out of his hand.
She opened it and he had to remind himself to breathe and reach into another pocket of his suit jacket for the other thing he needed. (Breathe. He needed to remember how to breathe. And how to speak too, though that was what the certificate was for. Just in case he forgot his words.)
He pulled out the little velvet box when her eyes slid over the space where the name of the star went. Or in this case, the question "Will you marry me?"
Her eyes widened and he was positive she stopped breathing, too. He'd had certain worries about his approach since she liked her privacy but he'd thought it only made it more perfect. Their love was written in the stars in a sense while it also remained intimate and privy only to the two of them. And the entirety of the night sky. He'd considered it romantic and he hoped he hadn't been wrong. It would be a shame to mess up the proposal. Even if she still accepted.
Griffin looked up at him and all he could do was open the box, his heart speeding up in his chest until he thought it was trying to shoot out of his rib cage and land in her hands that had always been so much more gentle than the anticipation of her answer clawing at him so viciously. And it only grabbed tighter as Griffin's gaze moved to the ring. (He'd never thought he'd be jealous of some jewelry.)
He'd had to take one of her own rings to get the size for the engagement one. It shouldn't have been a problem since she rarely wore them–it was why she only had two of them–but that had made the fact that it was missing more noticeable. She hadn't had time to look for it while she'd been in a hurry and he'd done everything in his power to get it back to her jewelry box before she'd come back home in the evening. He'd spent pretty much all day at the jewelry store, picking the metal for the ring–which had been easy enough–and the diamond.
She wouldn't care how big it was so he'd gone with his gut feeling and looked for a gem that would feel like her. And he'd finally found it after hours of going around several different stores. It had sparkled so warmly, just like her eyes did – a perfect fit. He just hadn't counted on her being so charmed by the ring that she'd forget all about him.
"So..." he cleared his throat, watching her snap out of her fascination. His voice was so harsh against his ears, grating on his nerves as if he'd never used it before. "Will you marry me?" he asked, putting all of his strength and courage into making the words sound firm and sure rather than scared and hesitant. He'd even forgotten to drop down on one knee in his panic. It wasn't that he had a problem with that. He'd done it often enough. Granted, in a different context but it was still the same obstacle he was facing in his goddamn pride that meant nothing to him compared to her. It couldn't mean anything with her as the home of his heart.
Maybe it was better this way, for he could see her eyes clearly and he needed that. He wanted her, would never want another woman at all, and he knew the answer would be in her eyes where she couldn't fake it amidst their bright honesty. It was ridiculous to expect anything other than the love that had always lived there, sheltered by the amber, but his insecurities did not operate according to logic. They were deeply rooted in his heart and he couldn't combat the fear of not being enough for her on his own no matter how much proof of the opposite he had in front of him. He needed her to tell him that she wanted to be his for him to believe she'd take him, too.
"Yes," Griffin whispered, her lips trembling as she barely found the air to speak and it could be the emotion that had so evidently taken over her body that was frozen still as it overflowed from it but to him it looked too much like his own paralysis that had everything to do with worry.
"Are you sure?" he asked, a part of him–the selfish one–screaming at him to slip the ring on her finger before she'd decided to run away. But he didn't want to bind her to him if she had any intention of leaving and as much as he would love to pass it for selflessness, it was the knowledge that it would destroy him to have her leave after he'd truly and completely believed she was his for the rest of eternity. It would finish him, and he couldn't... he didn't want... he didn't want that to be an option at all. He wanted her to be certain. And he wanted to believe her. More than anything in the world.
"Yes," Griffin inhaled deeply so that she'd have enough air to speak and reassure him, "I am." Her eyes locked with his and held him grounded in the embrace of her certainty that was so beautifully overwhelming that he surrendered to it without any struggle. "I've been yours for a long time now. And I will be. Forever. If I had to choose between you and the stars, I would choose you in a moment. You're the only light I need in my life," Griffin said, the firm conviction in her eyes and calling him "her light" doing what he'd thought impossible and making him feel not only loved, but also worthy of it, making him feel like he was enough to make her happy, and he believed it. "Do you want to put the ring on me or should I do it myself?" Griffin held out her hand.
Valtor chuckled and swiftly took the ring out of the box and put it on her finger where it was meant to be. Her skin was so warm against his–he was usually warmer than her–as if she was his own personal sun after he'd never seen one.
Griffin extended her hand forward until it was just above his shoulder and next to his cheek so that she could look at the ring. Her gaze moved from it to him and she cupped his cheek, the caress of her skin against his bringing his heart into its normal rhythm as all was well now. Better than that. It was perfect.
"I love you," Griffin added the last detail, making it even better than it already had been and he knew he'd found his own heaven.
"I love you," he took her hand in his and pulled it to his mouth to leave a kiss on it and express his gratitude for everything she'd given him. He was ecstatic to know that there was no longer a part of him that protested against the words. There were insecurities still, of course. Those wouldn't just go away as if with magic. But he knew she wasn't going anywhere. She wanted him, for reasons he couldn't understand but he respected and believed nonetheless because she'd never given him any reason for it to be otherwise. She'd never lied to him. She'd always kept her word. And she'd just said she was his.
And he was hers. Completely. All the good and the bad in him. It wasn't too little or too much. It was enough. And she loved him as he was. Enough to be his wife.