Erik was quite easily dodging blows from both Christine and Suzette; it was excellent exercise for all three of them. He had to admit, if only to himself, that he was beginning to have trouble catching his breath. He really had been relaxing too much since that evening he had formally introduced himself to Christine!
"All right, I think," he paused to inhale deeply a couple of times, "I think that's enough for this morning. What's say we take a bit of a rest?"
"Oh, but we were having such fun, Mons- Erik," Suzette pouted melodramatically. She wiped the sweat from her brow and went over to the table on the patio for a glass of water. They had been going at it rather vigorously that morning, though she greatly appreciated how he treated her more as an equal and less as a servant.
"That was fun, Erik!" Christine giggled. "Come, let's go sit in the shade for a while." She worried that his mask was chafing against his skin. "Suzette, would you fetch some fruit, please?"
"Yes, of course." Sensing that Christine wanted a few moments alone with her paramour, she added, "I shall go check on Madame and see if she would care to join us, as well."
"Take your time," Erik murmured.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Christine reached over and eased the mask from his face. "There, better?" she asked as she dabbed at his skin with a cool, damp cloth.
"Much better, my dear," he hummed appreciatively. "You are such a sweet girl to tend to me this way."
Christine couldn't stifle her smile. He looked so peaceful reclining there with his eyes closed, face towards the sky, his nearly non-existent lips upturned in a lazy little grin. "You are such a beautiful man."
His hands reached up to grasp hers. "Don't tease me, Christine. I know I am not pleasant to look upon." He kept his eyes firmly shut to avoid what he was certain was her smirk.
"Oh, come now, Erik! Everything about you is beautiful. Whatever lies in your past matters not to me. You are an incredible composer, a magnificent teacher. And I have told you that I cherish your face, have I not?"
He exhaled. "Yes, you have, my dear. When one is told his entire life that one is a monster, it becomes very difficult to believe an angel could ever find him beautiful. That she could look upon his visage without disgust or fear . . . or even dare to touch her heavenly lips to -"
He was silenced by her gentle kiss. On a sudden impulse, he pulled her into his lap and held her close. A few wisps of her flaxen hair had come loose from the bun at the nape of her neck to tickle his cheek.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, earthy from their earlier tumbles in the grass, but undeniably him beneath the hint of cologne he wore. "Is this what heaven is like, my angel?" she asked dreamily.
"You are my heaven, Christine. I could spend the rest of my life here with you." A thought struck him. "Would you be happy living here? Later, I mean, after you've retired from the stage?"
"I could be happy anywhere, as long as I'm with you." She felt herself drifting off to sleep in his arms.
"I'm going to marry you one day, Christine Daaé," he whispered into her hair.
She hummed dreamily and snuggled a bit closer into his arms.
A/N: I'm afraid that's where I'm going to leave it, dearies. I'm burned out, it seems. It's a pity, too, since I had an idea for - no, I won't mention it. I tried writing it, but it refused to be written.