#jacobpvrker

Maia looked up from her scotch at his familiar voice. She had long ago fallen into the routine of ending her Monday nights at Moonie’s. She’d head there at around 10:30 when she knew Jacob only had about an hour or so left of his shift, have a drink or two, and then the pair would walk back to their apartment building together. It hadn’t really become a conscious choice to make this part of her routine, it had just happened. And she wasn’t mad about it. As her eyes found the bouquet of flowers he had brought to the bar for her, Maia’s head tilted a little to the side, a smile slowly coming to her lips. “Well if this doesn’t make my entire Monday, I don’t know what will.” She reached forward and took the flowers being offered to her and smelled them, enjoying the scent. She leans forward over the bar and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Jacob. You’re the best.” she says, glancing back down at the flowers. 

Of course she remembered this classroom, number 216 on the second floor of their old high school and the notorious hangout for everyone trapped in detention. Apparently they assigned the current juvenile delinquents to a new location across the building, but this one held particular memories, both positive and negative, that Dahlia would cherish for all time. It was the room where they’d met as her partner so rightly pointed out, vocalizing her thoughts aloud as he knocked lightly on one of the desks before pivoting to face Dahlia. “Yeah, I was there, Jake. But what are we––” He appeared nervous, which happened to be one of the few occurrences in which the emotion crossed his features and for a brief millisecond, concern etched its way across her own. The words he begins speaking are drowned out by the sight of Jacob dropping to one knee and she can feel herself freezing involuntarily, eyes widening as if caught in the headlights. “You’re really doing this. Oh my God.” They hadn’t even begun to have a proper conversation about whether their relationship was fully rekindled or if they were just passing time, but here he was with a ring, and a question, and Dahlia entirely caught off guard. “I...” She hasn’t given him the answer and desires nothing more than to slap herself because this is what the young officer has craved for seven years: someone choosing to stay for once. This was as great a declaration as any. “Yes, I will fucking marry you.”

With a slight gleam in his eye, he’d asked Jake. “And why do you think I’d given you my cell number? To wait a few days before you get the wounds checked out—OR do you think I shared the number with you so I can help you as soon as possible to insure you don’t damage yourself even more.”