A/N — for SRP, a little background on why Mike has strong feelings about bouquets. xoxo — tmtcltb
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Yesteryear
Norfolk, Virginia
2005
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Mike Slattery was many things, but an idiot he was not. When he exited the bathroom, having arrived thirty minutes after he promised his wife he would be home so they could celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary, to find Christine standing in the kitchen, arms crossed across the chest, toe tapping, he knew immediately that she was pissed. If he needed more evidence, a second glance around the room revealed that the stems of the flowers he had purchased at the gas station around the corner from their house were sticking out of the top of the trashcan.
"Um, where are the kids?" Mike asked, searching for a neutral topic.
"With the Chandlers," Christine replied, and Mike silently cursed. Christine moved to the oven, sliding out a dish that looked like potatoes au gratin, his favorite and slapping it onto the table before speaking again. "Imagine my surprise when I ran into Tom there, after you texted to say that you would be home late because the two of you had to finish something up."
The steaks — which were far more done than well-done at this point — were the next thing to be slapped willy-nilly onto the table, shaking the wine glasses and candles that had apparently been added before Christine realized that he lied to her. "It's not what you think..."
Christine's eyes flashed. "And how would you know what I think, Mike? Because in the entire three weeks that you have been home since your last deployment we've spent exactly no time alone together. Why do you think I asked Darien to watch the kids? I wanted some time with my husband. A feeling that apparently you don't share."
"Well, no, I don't really need to spend more time with your husband," Mike said, trying to lighten the mood.
It failed, the asparagus missing the table entirely and landing on the floor, the casserole dish cracking.
Mike took a tentative step forward. "I was getting your gift. That's why I was late."
Christine scoffed. "The flowers from the Jiffy Mart? Nice try but you didn't even take the price tag off, Mike. If I wanted the $2.99 special, I would have bought them myself."
Deciding that salvaging the evening was going to require more than some flowers and a smile, Mike reached into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet jewelry box, placing it on the table between himself and Christine. "This is why I was late. I was picking it up."
Eyes narrow, Christine glanced down at the box and then at Mike several times.
Mike cracked a smile. "It won't bite. I promise."
Finally, Christine picked up the box, snapping open the top hard enough that he expected the lid to snap off entirely. She froze, then tears filled her eyes, one hand moving to her mouth, fingers shaking. Her gaze rose to Mike's face. "How did you know?"
Uncomfortable, Mike shrugged. "Apparently you said something to Darien, who told Tom, who told me that you wanted a mother's ring. And since we decided that Lucas is going to be our last kid, I figured it made sense to get one now." Christine didn't say anything, just stood there staring at the ring, and Mike found himself babbling. "If you hate it we can get something else. The jeweler said this was a classic style but it's not like I know either way. Oh, and I put the stones in order of birth but if you want them arranged a different way..."
"Stop." Christine held up a hand, and then she smiled at him. Beamed, really. "I love it, Mike. It's perfect." She walked around the table, sliding an arm around his waist and laying her head against his chest. "Thank you."
Encircling her with his arms, Mike rested his chin on the top of Christine's head. "Happy anniversary."
"Happy anniversary."
They stood that way for several minutes, just holding each other, and then Mike's stomach growled. Loudly. Christine laughed, taking a step backwards and wiping tears from her cheek with the palm of her hand. "The steak may be a little overdone." She looked down at the floor. "And we probably shouldn't try the asparagus in case there are chips from the casserole dish."
Mike moved towards the table, lifting the lid off the potatoes, which currently looked less like his favorite dish and more like something that came out of the mess when Bacon was on leave. "Potatoes still look good."
Christine lifted an eyebrow. "Want me to order pizza?"
Mike hesitated for all of three seconds. "Large meat-lovers with a side greek salad?"
Picking up the phone, Christine chuckled. "Since it's our anniversary, I'll even let you skip the greens."