A/N – sorry if it's a bit late to establish this, but I want to make clear that there is no Liddy in this story.
...
February
Sometimes, it's the completely ordinary aspects of a person that make them so special.
"How was work?"
"Not terrible. Tracy lost a minimal amount of body parts during rehearsal today—only his eyebrows, apparently he's allergic to wig adhesive—and Jenna's dressing room is finished with construction, so she's done making the bathroom on six her personal vanity. What about you? Did you synergize any flow-plans?" Liz says between mouthfuls of dim-sum.
"That's not a thing."
"I know it's not a thing. I was being funny."
Jack frowns thoughtfully. "Now, enabling the flow of a synergy-plan. That's a thing."
"I'm sure it is."
He observes Liz shoveling noodles into her mouth, glasses slightly askew and hair in a ponytail. By the end of the day, she's often done making an effort, but Jack thinks she looks cute. He often marvels at how she manages to pull it off at her age, but she does. She's managed to prove to him that she's capable of beautiful, sexy, and cute—and he likes any of those just fine. Because he's come to realize that the real Liz Lemon is all of those things.
Jack knows that a lot of people (maybe even Liz) are shocked they're still together. He was worried for a little while, but he got over it. After all, though they are different in many ways, they go well together.
He likes how he is totally at ease around her. She already knows how frequently insensitive and egocentric he can be and is still with him. She won't break up with him over his idiosyncrasies, and vice versa, because they've had six years to become familiar with each other's…quirks. Even when they disagree about things, he can be honest. Liz is extremely neurotic sometimes, but she is also strong-willed and opinionated like he is. She can hold her own and had already put him in his place on more than one occasion.
He likes it when she does this last bit more than he'll admit.
...
February's freezing, as always. Every year, the middle of winter brings a grayness that turns even the most social animals into couch potatoes. The cold rattles the bones of everyone, and makes going outside a chore, so it's great for Liz that she can abuse the town car as much as she wants. In fact, she's a bit proud that she's managed to take laziness to a whole new level.
The temperature in New York on this early afternoon is 14 degrees, and it won't improve. The sun is trying to shine, but gives no warmth. Liz has absolutely no desire of leaving the office ever again. So of course Jack, in a rare burst of boyish glee, is trying to convince her to go skating.
"I have better things to do with my lunch break than freeze my ass off."
"If you just relax, Lemon, you may find yourself enjoying it."
"I seem to recall nearly dying the last time I went out there." She gestures towards the plaza out the window behind her.
"That was nearly a month ago, and you won't be standing still behind a camera; you'll be moving around. I happen to know that you're showing a rerun this week and so won't need to write a sketch until tomorrow, at least. Come on."
She looks into his laughing blue eyes and finds she can't refuse. Twenty minutes later, Jack holds a pair of ice skates by their laces, dangling them in front of his face, and she frowns, wondering how he'd even charmed her into doing this. She's cold; adequately dressed, but she might as well be naked; her clothes form no protection against the icy wind.
Rockefeller hosts the usual crowd: tourists; parents skating with their children. She sees a few couples here and there, holding hands and laughing. Liz holds out her arm, accepting the skates from Jack. After asserting that they're the right size, she quickly takes off her shoes and slips into the skates. They're snug around her feet and it's an oddly comfortable feeling.
"Come on, Lemon," he says, echoing his words from earlier. He holds out his cashmere gloved hand and she accepts, smiling as he pulls her up. They skate off, following the flow of skaters, and fall into a comfortable silence.
After a while they stop near the edge; Liz's cheeks are flushed from the cold and the wind has mussed Jack's hair slightly. She leans up and kisses his cheek; he turns, and kisses her on the lips. It's nothing too passionate, just a short, affectionate peck.
But her lips tingle, and she has thoughts of what she wants to do to him when they're back upstairs. How does this man turn her into a schoolgirl all over again?
They deepen the kiss, and a few teenagers from Kansas snap a photo, but they hardly care.
Two joined silhouettes against a frozen sky.
...
The dirty truth is that people don't really want to be separated from their drama.
They say they do—they tell themselves that they wish they were "normal"; that they would prefer a simpler life. But they don't really mean it. Deep down, they don't want to be separated from brokenness and insecurities; the hidden scars and the still sore wounds. They protect their deformities; guard them with irrational abandon. And, despite what is said, they don't really want someone to come into their life and fix them.
What people really desire is someone who can come into his or her life and accept the shit that he or she comes with. Someone who looks at all the dysfunction and says this is a piece of who you are, so it's beautiful.
Liz thinks that maybe she's found that in Jack.
...
The restaurant is busy, but Jack and Liz are in their own world. The clinking of silverware reaches their ears in the form of a dull hum, and the conversation flows easily.
Luck is on his side tonight. An old connection of his from business school who manages a fine German restaurant in the Village is able to get him a table in his establishment. Various assortments of meat are brought to them, breads, a mixture of ales for them to choose from. Liz speaks to the native waiters in decent German and they are suitably impressed, enthralled by her. Waiters fuss over the beautiful lady under their service and he continues to hide his annoyance at their intrusion.
She compliments his choice of restaurant and he's glad that she's enjoying herself. She sips her wine contentedly and Jack barely eats, fascinated by her.
The dark cocktail dress rides on her thigh, exposing the tender skin below. He wants to drop his hand to the firm flesh, creep beneath the hem and discover whether she has opted for dinner sans underwear or not. She wears a bracelet on her slim wrist that she tells him had once belonged to her mother. The gemstones don't have the same lustre as new stones, but they are eye catching still. He proposes a toast.
"To anticipation," he says. Liz wonders what it implies but smiles politely and tips her glass against his. Their glasses are refilled, dinner plates are removed and desserts brought. Liz nearly kills him with the noises she makes while eating her German chocolate cake, and when there's finally a lull, he can't wait another moment.
He removes an object from his pocket and places it on the table. Her eyes settle on the robin's-egg-blue box, and she frowns.
"Valentine's Day was last week, Jack. You already got me a present, remember?"
He shakes his head, and opens the box.
"Elizabeth Miervaldis Lemon…" he begins, careful to pronounce her name correctly.
"…Lemon. There isn't anyone whom with I'd rather spend the rest of my life with. Will you marry me?"
The ring that he holds out to her is beautiful—a simple cut that glitters just right.
Her eyes sparkle prettily in the restaurant's soft lighting, and she blinks once to hold the tears back. Perhaps she really can have it all…and that's when she realizes: she already does.
She has found someone who is monogamous (if only rather recently) and rarely nice to his mother. Someone who likes musicals, even enough to surprise her with tickets to her favorite. Someone with clean hands and feet and beefy forearms, like a damned Disney prince. Or at least he looked like one in his twenties. Someone who genuinely likes her, even at her age (which is not quite old, but getting there). Someone who she can say and do anything to, because he's known her for so long and there's no need to hide. He's the person who both challenges and completes her; a workaholic who can keep up with her, but take care of her when she can't be strong; her best friend and mentor.
And maybe above all, he's someone who is as messed up as she is. Yes, she has everything she needs in Jack, and marrying him is what she wants.
So she replies, "Yes."
There aren't words, so they share a look instead. They find that they're able to say everything.
...