This chapter isn't one of my best pieces so don't expect too much. Also, this chapter's link to letters is a bit tenuous, so sorry about that. Thanks for reading.
Letter
Puck was never good with important occasions. I mean, sure he looked pretty good in a tux, and he was a fair dancer, but there was just something about the words 'special' and 'event' that sent shivers down his spine.
Maybe it was because it reminded him of a former time, back in Faerie, when he had to dance with his mother and he accidentally stood on her foot and broke her shoe. She was not pleased. Or maybe it was because it reminded him of when he had to dance with Moth, and he tried so many freaking times to break her shoes, and failed. Why were her feet so damn fast?
It just wasn't fair.
...
But it wasn't just dances. It was weddings too. They were too uptight, too prim and proper, a direct challenge to the way he's lived his life ever since he left. He was sorely tempted to skip out on Morgan's and Seven's, but then the alternative would have been to go out and fight a dragon. He was reckless, but he wasn't stupid.
So he went along, grudgingly, fiddling with his shirt sleeve, and later his bow tie when the glamour appeared. What's the point of making everyone look fancy if it'll just fade in a couple hours? he thought. Then he looked up, and saw her, and gasped.
Wow, he breathed. She turned around at that, and he quickly snapped his head down, returning momentarily to adjusting his arm cuff.
After that, the rest of the wedding wasn't so bad. Then again, he didn't pay much attention to the service.
...
It was this aversion, this intense dislike towards grand events which made him propose the way he did. There were no fireworks, no hired band or beautiful scenery. Heck, he didn't even get down on one knee, just stayed sitting. He had taken her out to dinner, to the Blue Plate Special, for what seemed like a nice normal meal. He'd ordered almost half the menu, in a useless attempt to calm his nerves, and then bolted it all down in record time.
What's wrong?, she asked.
Nothing nothing, he said.
Finally, when he'd finished, he pushed the trays to one side and asked Farrah for a sheet of her notepaper, which she gave with a confused look. Taking a Sharpie from his pocket, he carefully wrote down Sabrina's initials, underlined the 'G', and ended it with a question mark, sliding it over to her.
S.G?
At the start, she didn't say anything, just peered confusedly at the paper. Then she heard the dull thud of the velvet box as it hit the table, and everything clicked into place. Her eyes widened, she looked up at him, amazed, and scanned the sheet again. Gesturing for the pen, she uncapped it and scrawled something hurriedly down, before passing it back over to him.
Goodfellow
He grinned. He slipped the paper in his jacket, the ring on her finger, and kissed her, laughing slightly.
Thanks for reading. Please review with suggestions for future chapters.