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icepixieTitle: A Heart for a Compass (or, A Proposal, the Modesty of Which Is Irrelevant)
Author:icepixie
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ivanova/Garibaldi
Word Count: 561
Summary: Michael asks a question. Fluff. (Well, okay, it's them, so there's a little angst mixed in, but it's mostly fluff.)
Timeline: Spring 2263 (roughly nine or ten months after "The Backstreets of Heaven")
Note: This pretty much exists in order to make an homage to one of my favorite scenes in Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series. Hopefully it'll be enjoyable if you haven't read the book in question, though.
*
"So what do you think?"
What did she think? Surely he knew what—"Yes." Laughter bubbled out of her. "Of course."
"Really?" he asked, but apparently it was more out of nerves than a need for confirmation, for everything about his expression said he was thrilled with her answer.
"Yes, really," she said, punching him lightly on the arm before wrapping her arms around his neck and proceeding to kiss the hell out of him.
When they came up for air, he gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled in a way that made her stomach flip over. "I've been wanting to ask you for a while now."
"I've thought about it a few times myself," she admitted. God, it was a wonder they'd ever managed to get as far as they had, they were both so cautious and gun-shy, she thought with some amusement. "So how long is a while?"
He settled back on her couch, and she happily rested against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers sliding through her hair. "The first time...you remember that night we were supposed to go out for dinner, but something in the mess hall gave you food poisoning?"
"Unfortunately." She grimaced. Then the meaning of his answer sunk in, and she sat up to stare at him. "Then?" He nodded. "I spent half the night vomiting up everything I'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours!"
He grinned. "Exactly. I figured if I could sit there with you all that time you were puking your guts out and not want to be anywhere else, I was in this for the long haul."
She thought about punching him again, but decided that his answer was just disturbing enough to be sincere. Demented, but stealthily sweet—that was Michael, all right.
Something else about it struck her. "That was two...more than two years ago."
He shrugged a little too carefully. "Time never seemed to be right before."
She'd been ill just before he'd been taken by the Shadows, and she couldn't stop the memory of the year that followed from coming to mind. She bit her lip.
"Susan," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "Not everything changed that year."
"I know," she whispered.
They were as ready for this as they ever would be; she knew that as certainly as she knew her own name. Bester had given them something they might never fully get over, but together they had a better chance of putting it behind them than they did apart.
She placed her hand on his chest, gratified to feel a shiver run through him. She started to play with one of the buttons on his shirt, twisting it back and forth before finally slipping it out of its hole. "Well, I'll sit up all night with you if you ever need it. Although with what I've seen you eat, I doubt even Pak'Ma'Ra cuisine could make you sick."
He groaned. "Let's not talk about Pak'Ma'Ra food, huh? Especially not right now."
"'Kay. What else have you got in mind?" She moved her hand down his chest, swiftly freeing another button.
He kissed her lightly. "Well..." Another. "I actually wasn't thinking about conversation at all." Once more.
"Funny," she said, feeling giddy as she loosened another button. "Neither was I..."
Oh, yes, they were definitely better together than apart.
N.B. Title adapted from Dar Williams's "I Love, I Love."
Author:
icepixieRating: PG
Pairing: Ivanova/Garibaldi
Word Count: 561
Summary: Michael asks a question. Fluff. (Well, okay, it's them, so there's a little angst mixed in, but it's mostly fluff.)
Timeline: Spring 2263 (roughly nine or ten months after "The Backstreets of Heaven")
Note: This pretty much exists in order to make an homage to one of my favorite scenes in Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series. Hopefully it'll be enjoyable if you haven't read the book in question, though.
"So what do you think?"
What did she think? Surely he knew what—"Yes." Laughter bubbled out of her. "Of course."
"Really?" he asked, but apparently it was more out of nerves than a need for confirmation, for everything about his expression said he was thrilled with her answer.
"Yes, really," she said, punching him lightly on the arm before wrapping her arms around his neck and proceeding to kiss the hell out of him.
When they came up for air, he gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled in a way that made her stomach flip over. "I've been wanting to ask you for a while now."
"I've thought about it a few times myself," she admitted. God, it was a wonder they'd ever managed to get as far as they had, they were both so cautious and gun-shy, she thought with some amusement. "So how long is a while?"
He settled back on her couch, and she happily rested against his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his fingers sliding through her hair. "The first time...you remember that night we were supposed to go out for dinner, but something in the mess hall gave you food poisoning?"
"Unfortunately." She grimaced. Then the meaning of his answer sunk in, and she sat up to stare at him. "Then?" He nodded. "I spent half the night vomiting up everything I'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours!"
He grinned. "Exactly. I figured if I could sit there with you all that time you were puking your guts out and not want to be anywhere else, I was in this for the long haul."
She thought about punching him again, but decided that his answer was just disturbing enough to be sincere. Demented, but stealthily sweet—that was Michael, all right.
Something else about it struck her. "That was two...more than two years ago."
He shrugged a little too carefully. "Time never seemed to be right before."
She'd been ill just before he'd been taken by the Shadows, and she couldn't stop the memory of the year that followed from coming to mind. She bit her lip.
"Susan," he said softly, almost pleadingly. "Not everything changed that year."
"I know," she whispered.
They were as ready for this as they ever would be; she knew that as certainly as she knew her own name. Bester had given them something they might never fully get over, but together they had a better chance of putting it behind them than they did apart.
She placed her hand on his chest, gratified to feel a shiver run through him. She started to play with one of the buttons on his shirt, twisting it back and forth before finally slipping it out of its hole. "Well, I'll sit up all night with you if you ever need it. Although with what I've seen you eat, I doubt even Pak'Ma'Ra cuisine could make you sick."
He groaned. "Let's not talk about Pak'Ma'Ra food, huh? Especially not right now."
"'Kay. What else have you got in mind?" She moved her hand down his chest, swiftly freeing another button.
He kissed her lightly. "Well..." Another. "I actually wasn't thinking about conversation at all." Once more.
"Funny," she said, feeling giddy as she loosened another button. "Neither was I..."
Oh, yes, they were definitely better together than apart.
N.B. Title adapted from Dar Williams's "I Love, I Love."
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-25 08:59 pm (UTC)Yeah, that about covers it. ♥
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Date: 2010-06-25 11:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 11:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-07 04:59 pm (UTC)