Two| Size Matters…Not?
"…and it's so big, too," she insists, donning the sort of pout that he secretly thinks wars probably used to be fought over. "I mean I know his family's loaded and all, but it's just a wedding ring! Did he really need to spend so much on her?"
Her eyes spark passionately when she huffs this, her narrow eyebrows furrowing together cutely and lips gleaming under the moonlight, but he realizes by now that most of hers are rhetorical questions anyway and keeps companionably silent.
Sure enough, she continues brazenly, "And after all she's done to him, too! Sometimes I just don't understand how he put up with it all…the break ups and the get back togethers and…" When she shivers, he shifts his position wordlessly, absently tucking her just a little more snugly into his embrace, and she burrows back cooperatively into the movement without more than the slightest of pauses in her train of dialogue, "…I guess I just think it's silly…that she felt she had to test him so many times and run him through so many hoops…and this is since we were all in high school!"
Goosebumps add a subtle ripple of texture to her usually baby-smooth skin, and he thinks that he should have brought that second blanket after all, despite her adamant insistence that she 'could so' handle an evening picnic in mid-October without a million layers of cover, and that she '…wasn't that much of a Barbie doll, thank you very much.' Next time he'll just pack one without asking.
"I just can't imagine doing that to someone I care about…can you imagine doing something like that?" she asks, and this time she tilts her head when she says it, turning against his chest and curving back to catch a glimpse of him out from under long, feathery lashes.
He shakes his head, and when she lets the pause hang long enough for him to actually fit in a reply, he leans forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, and kisses her temple. "No," he says solemnly, though his smile somewhat belies the seriousness of it, "sounds awful."
"I know!" she comes back in with a vengeance, apparently oblivious to his subtle teasing – not that he minds, really. "It's terrible. I mean…we've been together for almost as long…longer, if you don't count all the time they've spent pretending they're not going to get back together…and we haven't been that silly about it even once! It's so stupid. And they're so young! Well, I mean, we're all so young…"
Here, her words start to slow just barely noticeably, and he makes a soft sound of agreement, moving to place a kiss just above her temple, to the side of her forehead. She shuffles her weight, curling pale, barefoot, recently-pedicured toes into the picnic blanket.
"It would…I mean it would probably be silly to get married so soon, anyway," she admits carefully. "Really, it's not like we have something to prove…we wouldn't have to…you know, do something like that to prove that we were committed or anything…because we know already…I mean…well, I certainly don't need proof like that to know that you care…"
Slowly, his hands – previously trying (valiantly, if not entirely successfully) to rub some warmth into her arms – still their efforts, and he takes his time turning so can see her and watch her expression when he asks, "So you don't want to get married?"
Even in the semi-dark, the instant, rapid pinking of her cheeks is obvious, and her eyes widen just as vividly, shrouded in darkness but still wildly alive as she shakes her head abruptly with great purpose. "No," she utters intensely, and he can't help but liken her, in this moment, to a child, caught in the act of mischief; twenty-four-years-old, and she still manages to pull off innocence like it was yesterday. "I didn't mean…well, I—that is…"
Deciding to go easy on her – and more or less incapable of doing anything but that, in any case – he smiles and dots a kiss to the corner of her lips, hushing her before he asks, "Then, do you want to get married?" and her reaction this round is just as splendid.
"I…well…" Her face warms further as her words fall apart, the gentle upsweep of her cheeks coming to glow like twin nightlights, or possibly two very distantly burning stars, and suddenly she can't quite meet his eyes, her lashes painting tiny slivers of color on her cheeks, like the thin hairs of a fine paintbrush. "Yes, eventually, one day…of course, I-"
"I didn't…" Finally, it's his turn to blush. "That's not…exactly what I…meant…"
He clears his throat, and he knew the nerves would hit, but he still isn't quite prepared for them to come on this immediately, and this alarmingly – and all at once. Yet, with nothing left to do now but proceed, he does just that: first gently untangling himself from around her, and then settling himself on one knee before her and taking a breath. Her eyes are fixated on him now, with rapt, rigid attention as he reaches out and carefully clasps her hand.
"Star…" He hasn't seriously worried about the size of the diamond, or the circumference of the band, or whether or not she might have had some very specific cut in mind beforehand, until this moment – absolutely and positively too late – as he draws it from his pocket, but he need not have worried, because it fits her slim, quivering finger perfectly, "…will you marry me?"
First, she stares at it, lost in a sort of awe as if her hand had suddenly declared itself the born-again Messiah, destined to lead the human race to salvation; then, she cradles it, drawing her palm to her chest and pulling her lip between her teeth as if she still can't quite believe the moment is actually real; and then, she affixes him with a narrowed, suddenly suspicious glare.
"You're not asking just because he did, are you?" she asks pointedly, and it throws him.
"No, I…" He wonders if he can get off his knee now. "I bought that six months ago…" he admits bashfully, not quite daring to move because she technically hasn't answered the question yet, and maybe it would be a worthwhile venture to make sure that all females were taught at some point in their younger years that this was a very important question to answer quickly – because surely there is no torture greater than waiting for the reply. "Dash actually caught me, later, with it and…well, he made fun of me at the time, but I guess he thought it was an okay idea because obviously he-"
"You've been thinking about this for six months?" Star whispers softly, with a sort of hopeful resonance, and Kwan wonders if his cheeks could possibly get any darker as he strings a hand awkwardly behind his neck.
"Actually…I've kina been thinking about this for…" And the last word is deathly quiet, "…years…" but apparently she hears it, because her eyes are huge and awestruck all over again by the time he looks back up.
"Oh, Kwan…" Her words go quiet. "You know, Paulina ran away when Dash proposed…she told me herself that day she was never going back and it was all finally over…"
Kwan shuts his eyes, swallowing. "Star…baby, please…please don't do that…" he says in an embarrassingly small voice. "If it's not as big as the one Paulina got or you want me to get a new one or anything I can always go-"
She tackles him – with impressive force for a woman who would have to jump on a scale to make the needle pass one twenty-five, his former football-player mind informs him – but his twenty-four-year-old male, recently boyfriend-turned-fiancé mind is too busy wrapping itself around the fact that he's being showered with kisses and that a single word is being directed at him, over and over. It takes him the longest time to process the sound, and longer still to translate the ecstatic, muffled and mumbled syllables into, "Yes…yes, yes, yes…"
A/N: Hmmm…I still think I like the first one better. I dunno. Maybe it's because I have a thing for drama and/or the passion of roller-coaster relationships. Or maybe it's because I'm so determined to be the champion of unloved pairings…or maybe both. Yeah, probably both. I guess it's like, if I can't prove to the world a little bit at a time that love is beautiful no matter who's in it or with whom their falling, then I've failed somehow (and I'll just have to try harder next time, because giving up isn't an option).
Questions, comments, criticisms, flames? …suggestions? If anyone has any ideas on how they'd like the Danny/Sam one to play out, feel free to tell me. I have some ideas, but their story isn't nearly as concrete as the other three, in my head, so it's open for inspiration/editing.