#fluff forever

Except…something is…off about Sam recently. Something Deena, despite the past near decade of her life spent documenting and studying Sam Fraser, can’t quite put her finger on. Something that has made Sam skittish, that has made her babble in the way she only does when she’s trying to pull something over on Deena, like her eagerness to chatter is somehow not a dead giveaway that she’s hiding Christmas presents or birthday plans. Except now it’s nowhere near a holiday or Deena’s birthday and Sam is still…different. Odd.

Deena isn’t sure if the sight of Sam so often staring off into space and worrying her thumbnail between her teeth is the reason for the impulse to throw up or if it’s because of the plan that has taken root in her mind recently and refuses to let itself be shaken loose.

Not that Deena has really tried all that hard to talk herself out of proposing to Sam. It had been a no-brainer, even at eighteen and covered in the grime of three-hundred-years of Satan worshiping that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Sam. But the idea of actually having to say the words, of letting them leave that secret, hidden part of herself and see the light of day feels terrifyingly different.

Because, like a few other words Deena has had to utter in her life, they can’t be taken back once they’re hanging in the air. No amount of wishing would ever allow her to grab them again, shove them back down, lock them up forever.

Because what if Sam…doesn’t.

Doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life with Deena.

Doesn’t want to wear Deena’s ring on her finger.

Doesn’t want to tell Deena that she’s already got one foot out the door.

The faraway looks…the nervous laughter…the babbling. What if it all…it’s been years, years, since Deena has thought about a future without Sam. Since she has let herself imagine a moment over and over again, like poking a bruise, where Sam walked out the door of their shared, tiny, crappy, perfect apartment.

But now…yeah, Deena really feels like she’s going to throw up.

Sam is in the kitchen, that distant look on her face, and she’s doing that thing she thinks Deena hasn’t noticed, the low murmuring as she talks herself through something. The same lips that she’d kissed that morning might very well now be planning out the words Sam is going to use to tell Deena that she’s about to put all her stuff in a trash bag and throw it off the fire escape and maybe thinking about proposing specifically to keep Sam from leaving is not exactly the best approach but, hell, she’s got the ring and poor impulse control and damnit she’s going to do this.

She’s going to ask.

And hopefully not throw up while she does it.

“Sam?”

The way Sam spins in her direction, a guilty expression flashing across her face, does not instill Deena with confidence. Neither does the way Sam quickly fixes her expression, a far too brilliant smile stretching across her face. “Deena. Hey.”

Like they haven’t been in the apartment together for the past several hours.

Deena swallows, watching as Sam slips her hands in her pockets, as though to disguise her fidgeting. “Can I…talk to you?”

“Sure. Yeah. Of course.”

They sound like they’re seventeen-years-old again and trying to pretend like they’re just friends hanging out who haven’t been kissing each other in the backseat of Deena’s car after school.

Actually, they sound worse than that. Overly polite, cheerful. Like strangers.

They go into the living room and sit on opposite ends of the couch that Sam had found outside on the street one afternoon a few months after they’d moved into the apartment, when they’d still been using a blanket stretched across the floor like they were having a picnic every day. Her smile had been wide and bursting, genuine then, as she’d thrown open the bathroom door and dragged Deena out of the shower, throwing a towel at her and telling her to get dressed so they could snag the couch before someone else did and it hadn’t been until Deena was halfway down the block with a couch in her arms that she even figured out exactly what was going on.

Now Sam isn’t even looking at her, eyes jumping around the room like the second their gazes meet all her secrets are going to be dumped out between them. Secrets…something Deena can’t remember having from Sam for years. And she’d always thought…

Deena swallows, pushing the thoughts away. “Are…you okay?”

Sam’s eyes widen, that overly innocent no-I-haven’t-been-wrapping-Christmas-presents look fixed firmly on her face. “What? Okay? Me? Yeah, of course! Of course I’m okay!” Sam assures her, nodding quickly. “Are you…okay?”

Exhaling, Deena swallows, trying to read Sam’s expression. “You…you’ve been acting weird.”

Okay, there she said it. Not exactly the words she’d imagined would lead up to the whole proposal thing but…since when has anything Deena Johnson has been a part of ever gone according to plan?

“Me!” Sam would be a terrible spy. A worse poker player. And, apparently, the type of girlfriend who has something going on that she doesn’t want Deena to know about. “Yeah…I’m fine. Everything is…fine.”

Her voice pitches high and shrill in a way Deena hasn’t heard in years, not since Sam stopped trying to convince Deena that her mother was warming up to her. Deena sighs, clenching her teeth together. “Sam…”

“Okay, I have…I’ve been thinking,” Sam says quickly, the words tumbling out so fast that Deena almost can’t track the sudden shift in both tone and posture. Because now Sam looks nervous, ramrod straight, the forced smile sliding off her face and leaving her looking a little bit like she’s in danger of throwing up too. “About us.”

Maybe this was a horrible idea. Maybe she would’ve been better off not knowing, exactly. Maybe she doesn’t want to know what’s been on Sam’s mind.

Still, Deena forges onward. “Yeah. Me too.”

Sam doesn’t look relieved. If anything, she looks more nervous. “About…what happens next.”

Shit, shit, shit. Is this good…as in I think we should move into together what happens next? Or bad as in your stuff is already in trash bags what happens next.

“Uh…yeah. I…same.”

Sam nods, hands still in her pockets, giving her a fidgety quality that makes Deena want to start screaming. Just get on with it already! But Deena forces herself to take a breath, to try and remain cool, to focus on the whole not-throwing-up thing.

“I think…” Sam isn’t looking at her and this can’t be good.

And somehow Deena still can’t stop the words at the tip of her tongue, begging to spring loose even if it means crashing and burning in spectacular Deena Johnson fashion. “I was thinking…”

“Deena-”

“Sam, I just really…I want, you know, I mean…I love you and-”

“Will you marry me?”

“I think we should get married.”

The silence that follows feels absolute in a way Deena imagines the vacuum of space must be. So perfect, so devoid of life itself, that it actually takes Deena a second to think past the sound of her own voice, to replay the moment again in her mind. Sam…her words… “What?”

Maybe she somehow misheard.

Because it really sounded like…

But then Sam is grinning, a laugh bubbling past her lips, the sound of it making Deena feel warm and fizzy and light all the way down the tips of her toes and when she looks at Sam, it takes her a second to realize that there’s something in her hands, a small box that must have been tucked away in her pockets all this time and…

“Oh my god,” Deena exhales, looking at the box, at Sam, at this world that’s suddenly coming into sharp focus. “You want to marry me?”

Sam laughs again and suddenly there’s no distance between them, her weight in Deena’s lap and her arm slipping around her shoulder and Deena is still too stunned to do much more than keep her teeth from clicking against Sam’s when she presses their lips together. But her touch, her weight, seems to snap her out of her surprise, to wake her up like every fairy tale princess in history, and Deena blinks, putting her hands on Sam’s waist and staring at her. “You want to get married.”

Grinning, Sam nods, and there’s a perfect blush to her cheeks, the same sort of rosy pink that Deena has fallen in love with a hundred times in a hundred moments. She kisses Deena again, her hand pressed to the space between Deena’s shoulder blades, the box still in her hand and digging into the skin there but Deena hardly notices.

“Deena Johnson,” Sam mumbles against her lips, kissing her again. “You want to marry me?”

“Yes.” The word comes out as easy as breathing. Easier maybe. And Deena pulls her closer, kissing Sam’s mouth, her cheek, the corner of her jawline. Sam giggles, leaning into her, and Deena wants to hold her close and never let her go.

Unfortunately, Sam seems to have other ideas, because she pulls back slightly, just enough that she can watch Deena’s face as she opens the small velvet box and there’s a ring there, the sight of it somehow taking Deena by surprise despite the words they’ve already exchanged. It seems too good to be true. Impossibly so. Like a dream that has just become real now that she’s staring at the small, simple gold band with the equally simple but still stunningly beautiful stone set in the middle. It’s the exact thing Deena would’ve chosen for herself if pressed on the issue and somehow the idea that Sam had seen the ring and known it would be perfect for her makes Deena want to start crying. “You got a ring?”

“Of course.” Sam grins, shaking her head. “That’s how you’re supposed to do it, right?”

Deena swallows, still slightly hesitant, as though actually daring to slip the thing onto her finger might somehow break the fantasy that has somehow become her life. “Is this why you’ve been acting so weird lately?”

Sam rolls her eyes, that innocent look returning to her face and fooling no one. “I haven’t been acting weird!”

Deena scoffs, shaking her head. “Okay. Whatever.”

“Okay, maybe I was a little nervous.”

Deena lifts her eyebrows. “Nervous? Why?”

She likes the way the spots of color look on Sam’s cheeks, how she drops her gaze as she shrugs. “I wasn’t sure you would say yes.”

“Sam.” Deena shakes her head, smiling as she lifts Sam’s chin, their eyes meeting. “You’re an idiot.”

Sam scrunches up her nose, but the gesture definitely loses any gravity it would’ve had because of the smile on her face. “So…is that a yes?”

Deena opens her mouth and then pauses, shaking her head…which is most definitely not the best gesture for the moment, given the way that Sam’s face immediately falls. “Wait, that’s not…no…” Not helping. “Just…hold on one second. Okay?” Deena kisses Sam’s forehead, regrettably freeing herself from Sam’s weight, and hurrying toward the bedroom.

As soon as she opens the top drawer of her half of the dresser, her fingers curl around the item she’s kept there for years, always acutely aware of its presence despite the effort she sometimes went to in order to ignore it all together.

Sam is still looking slightly confused when Deena returns and, okay, definitely not how Deena saw herself doing any of this, but it’s still somehow perfect anyway. She sits down across from Sam once more, their knees pressed together, and she swallows, far more nervous now than she’d been moments before, which seems completely ridiculous considering the hard part should already be over.

Right?

“Sam…” Deena could lose herself in those blue eyes, especially with the way they’re shining now, the joy there, the love…things Deena knows have to be mirrored in her own gaze whenever she looks at Sam. She uncurls her fingers, holding out the ring that she’s kept with her for years and years, never imagining except in her most indulgent and secret of fantasies, that she would ever have reason to allow it to see the light of day again.

Sam’s eyes widen as she looks at the ring, far more elaborate than the one she’d chosen, the trio of stones set across the band winking in the light coming through the windows. “Deena.”

“We should get married,” Deena says again, the words tugging up the corners of her lips. “Right?”

Sam nods, her head bobbing up and down for a few seconds before she seems to be able to remind herself to stop the motion. “Yes. Yes, I want to marry you.”

Seriously, Deena could die happy. Right here on this couch. Because how is her life supposed to get better than this.

Sam’s brow knits together, her eyes searching Deena’s face. “Deena, this ring is…beautiful. Where-”

“It was my mother’s,” Deena says softly and when she looks at the band, she can almost remember the way her mother’s hands had looked in the years before she’d died, her skin always rough but her touch soft as she’d reached to take Deena’s hand in her own. “My dad gave it to me a few years ago. I know it’s…I mean we can get a better one. If you want. But I thought-”

“No,” Sam says softly, shaking her head. “No. It’s perfect.”

Really, what’s perfect is the feeling of being able to slip the ring onto Sam’s finger, to see it nestled there against her skin. Sam leans forward to kiss her and it isn’t until later, when they’re sprawled out in bed together among the tangle of sheets, that Sam puts her own ring on Deena’s finger and Deena finds that she can’t seem to stop looking at it, regardless of how much Sam teases her. But it’s worth it.

“Lightning?”he murmured as he stepped into the bedroom, trying not to jostle thetray so he could surprise her. There were definitely benefits tohaving a girlfriend who couldn’t see when it came to catching her offguard…in a good way, of course.

“Hmm?”Her eyes fluttered open, though of course they didn’t quite focus onanything. Still, her face glanced in his general direction, and asalways, his heart did this weird little stutter in his chest. “Whatare you doing out of bed?”

“Oh,y'know.” He grinned and carefully set down the tray.

Apparentlyit wasn’t carefully enough, because she frowned in confusion when heslid back into bed. “What was that?”

“Situp a little more.” When she did, Hope sat right beside her, theirthighs pressed together, and set the tray on their laps. “Breakfastin bed, that’s what.”

Lightning’sfingers traced the edges of the tray, placing everything in her mind.Her lips quirked into a confused little smile when she felt thecrepe. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yeah.I special-ordered them at the bakery last night.”

“Huh.”She carefully broke off a piece and ate it, humming in contentment.“What’s the occasion?”

“What,I can’t be nice to my girlfriend?” While that was truth, there wasalso a special occasion…she just didn’t know it yet.

“Notthisnice,” she teased. “Plus, you can’t stop smiling. I can hear itin your voice.”

“Whatcan I say? You just…” Hope smiled again, his voice softer. “Youmake me really happy, Light.”

Sheturned her head more towards him at the words, her lips curvinggently. He closed the space between them before she could even closeher eyes, a little shocked at himself that this was their first kissgood morning.

Notthat they lacked for kisses in general, but still.

“Drinkyour coffee,” he said when they’d pulled away. “You don’t want itgetting cold.”

“Youknow me so well.” She chuckled, feeling for the mug and holding itup to her lips, sipping from it as fluidly as any sighted person.

Thewords struck a chord in Hope’s heart.He, well, hopedthathe did know her as well as he believed. Three years was a long timeto be with a person, and even with the rough patches before they’dofficially gotten together, he couldn’t remember ever being happier.It was a feeling he wanted to cling to for the rest of his life.

Hehoped she’d agree.

Afterthey finished breakfast, she turned her head to silently ask foranother kiss, which he happy obliged. “Do you need to go down tothe shop today?”

“No.”Hope had purposely given himself the day off and taken care of enoughso that Noel would have no problems running the place for the timebeing. Not that Lightning knew that. “Why? Did you have somethingin mind?”

“Notparticularly.” Her hands carefully reached out and he met herhalfway to lace their fingers together. “I just think it’d be niceto spend the day with you. I guess that breakfast in bed put me in agood mood.”

Yessss.“Ican’t say no to that.” He leaned in for another kiss with a smile,brushing their noses together in warning before their lips met. She’dtold him many times that it was fine to take her by surprise when itcame to a kiss, but he preferred to be considerate. “Actually…”

“Hmm?”

Andit was was, one of the most nerve-wracking parts of today. Lightningwas so perceptive that he was sure she’d instantly see through hissuggestion somehow. “I found a new song you’d be able to play. Ialready marked the keys. Wanna try it out?”

Luckily,she didn’t seem to think anything was strange with his suggestion.Instead, her face lit up in that way it only ever seemed to aroundhim. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”He breathed out a sigh of relief. “I’ll take care of the dishes,okay?”

“Someone’sbeing helpful,” she teased. Dishes were usually her doing.

“Yeah,yeah. Just for today.”

Shewas still laughing under her breath as he took the tray and headed tothe kitchen to load the dishwasher. The chore was juuust menialenough for his nerves to come flaring back again. What if she thoughtthis was stupid? Or didn’t want anything to do with him after this? He didn’t think that would happen, but if three years of being withLightning had taught him anything, it was to assume nothing.

Asigh escaped him as he left the kitchen and crossed the room to sitat the piano bench. Having one had been pretty much mandatory whenLightning had moved in with him, so he’d basically had to rearrangehis entire living room. It was kinda nice, though, since it meantthat the both of them could get used to a new space together. Atleast moving things around had forced him to clean and now he madeevery effort to keep things exactly as they were so Lightning had noproblems getting around.

Heglanced up when he heard Odin’s paws padding across the floor,smiling as the dog shuffled to the kitchen to eat. Seconds later,Lightning emerged, looking beautiful as usual.

“Blueshirt and black skirt?”

Shenodded, making her way towards him, her hand held a bit out to theside. Typically, she didn’t like using her cane, never mind insideher own house, so they’d devised their own ways to help her getaround. “I thought so.”

Hopesmiled when her fingers brushed the piano and he tappedher hand, guiding her to the bench. It was comfortable, familiar. Hesincerely hoped he wasn’t about to ruin it. “You look beautiful asalways.”

Sherolled her eyes. The expression was so perfect that sometimes hewondered if she’d perfected it before she’d lost her sight. “You’rebiased.”

“Maybea little.” He grinned and brushed their noses together beforestealing a kiss. Another. And another…

“Quitdistracting me,” she murmured, pulling away, but even her unfocusedgaze was smiling. “I came here to play, Estheim.”

“Ifyou say so.” He tried to laugh, but it came out a little weak. Ohgod, his palms were sweating. Good thing he’d already marked the keys– using their tried and true method of masking tape so Lightningcould feel them easily – or he never would’ve been able to pullthis off. “We’restarting at the F chord.” The real song started a bit later thanthat, but this was a way to…ease her into it. Yeah.

Lightning’sfingers drifted soundlessly over the keys until she’d found onemarked with masking tape. She pressed down, smiling as one lone noterang through the air, and then slowly continued. Hope occasionallycovered her hands with his to guide her to the right notes, but shewas doing quite well by herself. As usual.

Themelody started out as asoft little tune that spoke of promises. It was something you couldlisten to for hours, he thought, because there was nothing about itthat commanded you to concentrate on every note.

Unlikewhat was coming next.

Hopetook a deep breath as he guided Lightning’s hands to the next keys.She tilted her head at his sharp intake of breath, but obedientlyplayed where he asked, the melody flowing into something else.

Thetune was unmistakable.

Dum,dum, da-dum…

Hewatched her the whole time, taking in how her brows furrowedslightly. Luckily, she didn’t seem annoyed – just more confusedthan anything. Even though he could just telltherewas a question at the tip of her tongue, she kept playing until thelast note faded andthere was a buzzing silence.

“Hope,”she said, turning her head in his direction. Somehow, she managed tostare directly into his eyes. “That was the wedding march, right?”

“Um.”He cleared his throat, glad that she couldn’t see him reach into hispocket. “Yes.”

“Why?Are we playing this at some wedding?”

“No.I mean, we won’tbe, because that’d be weird. I think. I don’t know.”

Shenarrowed her eyes. “What are you - ”

Herwords were cut off when he gently took her hand and placed an openbox in her palm. Carefully, he guided her other hand to feel the ringthere. It was different from a typical engagement ring – this onewas a platinum band molded into the shape of a rose with a smalldiamond in its center. Lightning didn’t wear much jewelry, but he’dwanted this to be completely unmistakable, so she’d never confuse itwith any other ring and could describe it by touch in an instant.

“Light,”he murmured when her eyes widened in realization. She knew exactlywhatthis ring was supposed to be. “Will you - ”

“Yes.”

“…”He blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“Youheard me.” She was smirking now, but the wonder in her expressionhadn’t faded. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

Thenerves that had been knotted in his stomach all morning finallyunraveled. “Maybe you should let me finish the question,” heteased.

“Areyou going to go down on one knee?”

“Idon’t need to. I’d rather see eye-to-eye with you.” She rolled hereyes at the bad joke, but that didn’t deter him from leaning in andbrushing his nose against hers. “Lightning Farron,” he murmured.“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been. I want to feel this wayforever with you.”

Sincehe already knew her answer, Hope gently took the box that was stillcurled in her hand and plucked the ring from it, carefully sliding itonto her ring finger. It sparkled there perfectly. “Will you marryme?”

Lightningflexed her fingers a few times, getting used to the feel of the ringthere. She touched it with her thumb, like she needed to make surethat it was real. He couldn’t blame her.

Eventhough he already knew her answer, the smile on her face spokevolumes. Still, he heard it again before she tilted her head andcarefully sought out his lips.