Over the Rainbow
Pairing: ??/?? (If you can't figure out who the couple is, you need to be slapped.)
Song: Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
Rating: K+ for Slight Language and Innuendo
Genre: Romance/Slight Drama
He didn't typically use cliché ideas. In fact, he steered away from them. He didn't ask girls out on their birthday or on Valentine's Day, he didn't give them special little gifts on Christmas or go Trick or Treating with them only to have them find a special gift in their candy bag. He didn't like the cliché stuff. Until today.
Valentine's Day had always been his least favorite holiday. The pinks and whites and all of the bright colors drove him nuts and he completely avoided mingling with the world. Until last year. For some unknown reason, he'd been walking down the street and had nearly smashed into somebody. They ended up only bumping into each other and he grabbed her arm so she didn't fall backwards. To his amazement, the woman in his hands had been somebody he knew all too well and he'd stared at her in disbelief while she did the same. They stared at each other for a good three minutes before she stepped out of his grip and mumbled that she'd been looking for him.
They'd spent the rest of that day walking the bustling and love-stricken Washington D.C. over, their bodies close and every now and ten their hands brushing. They spoke of things that had happened to them since they'd seen each other in Spain. He'd even told her about the Harvardville incident, though he was certain she already knew about it. He'd told her about getting thrown into the air and how because he'd smashed into a steal beam hard enough to make it quake he hadn't been able to sleep on his back since. She'd given him a concerned look and had told him that he should've had it checked by a doctor. Her worry had amazed and, secretly, touched him.
When the sun had started to set, he'd walked her to her apartment that wasn't that far from his own. When they stood before her room and she'd turned to face him, he'd asked why she'd been looking for him. He'd never even bothered to ask her earlier that day. A tired smile had simply flickered across her lips and she'd said, "I wanted to spend a normal day with you. Just once." He'd been unable to resist kissing her then.
After that, they'd had a steady relationship, even going so far as to him being able to consider them girlfriend/boyfriend. She'd ended up giving up her dangerous job for him. He gave up the government's trust for her.
Back in front of her apartment, his hands were sweaty and clammy as he rapped his knuckles on her door. How would she respond to the question he was going to so daringly ask her? How would the night even go? When she opened the door, his questions fled from his mind.
She was clad in an ankle length blood red dress. He would've gaped at her but he was too much of a gentleman and forced his jaw to stay shut. She backed away from the door and let him enter, taking the rose from his hand with a move so quick he could barely follow her hand.
"Hm…" she mumbled as she breathed in the aroma of the flower. "Didn't think you liked flowers, handsome." He shrugged and she shut the door. The flower fell from her hands and she wrapped her arms around his neck in an embrace. He inhaled her sweet scent as he hugged her back. "What took you so long?" she purred, her breath warm against his neck.
"Traffic, pissed off superiors, all that good stuff," he replied pleasantly enough. Not even the most powerful government in the world and her ex-bosses could keep them apart. Not even an upset woman or furious friend had stopped him from stepping into her arms. How many times had Claire Redfield, who'd tried to get him and Angela Miller together, told him that being with Le Femme Fatale would end painfully? And how many times had he replied that he was willing to handle the pain if Le Femme Fatale was willing as well? He still wasn't quite certain how Claire or Angela had found about his relationship with the crimson clad beauty.
Her hands suddenly slid down his chest, dragging him from his memories. He looked into her eyes and she said, "I made food but it might be deadly."
He kissed her and huskily replied, "I love deadly things so what's the harm?"
During their meal, they both were practically living in their own worlds. She loved how they could do that and yet still be so in tune with one another. Especially recently.
She found herself staring at him, watching as he slowly ate. He never complained, was always so polite, was always so gentlemanly. She couldn't help but compare him to some Greek god, like Apollo or something, with his hair a blond so golden it seemed to shine. His eyes were such a light blue they challenged ice cubes with their paleness. His youthful face hid the experience he'd had through the years. And his face was extremely handsome, almost boyish in ways.
How she loved him. Before she'd met him those years ago, she'd not understood love. But she did now. Oh, she truly did. Yet she had not told him of her love. Not even during the few times they'd shared a bed for things other than sleeping. In fact, the closest she'd come to admitting her feelings was during one of their many "cuddle" times. For they had a tendency to curl up together and sit like that for hours, not doing anything but savoring the other's presence.
She was still staring at him when his piercing blue eyes lifted and focused on her and she smiled warmly. "At least it hasn't killer you…yet…" she teased. A grin found its way onto his lips and he shrugged.
"I have a good immune system, perhaps," he offered. She laughed gently at that before lowering her gaze to the table. Oh, how she longed to tell him. She doubted he completely trusted her. She knew there'd always be some distrust there. At least, until they told each other how they truly felt. And she didn't have the courage to do that. "So…anything new?" he asked, starting up a normal conversation, something she still wasn't quite used to.
"Not really, no," she replied. "I'm running low on money. I'm going to have to start opening up my other bank accounts." She noticed the apologetic look in his eyes and smiled. "It wasn't just you that made me quit. Everything was telling me to leave that life."
He shrugged again, one of his favorite ways to respond, and said, "True but I'm the one who actually made you do it." She nodded but didn't completely agree.
"I would've left eventually. You just gave me more reason to do it," she explained. "And I'm glad. Because I was miserable. And now I'm not. And I know I have enough money to never work again."
"You could spare me a dollar then?" he asked playfully, his cocky smile immediately annihilating the somber mood. "For a soda? So, I don't pass out on the road in the mornings."
"And what am I going to get in return?" He simply smirked.
Oh, how love made him daring. He pulled the small box from his jacket pocket and stared at it. Even with love he was still too cowardly to outright ask her. Even on Valentine's Day, with love blooming everywhere, he was too cowardly.
She was asleep on the couch, her high heels next to it and her dress askew around her ankles. He was going to ask her when they'd laid down on the couch but he'd lost the courage. As soon as she was asleep, he'd gotten up and paced the living room.
He finally placed the box back in his pocket when she suddenly asked, "What's wrong?" He cast her a silent look and felt a sigh build inside him. He wanted to tell her. Could he? Or would he back out again, like they coward he felt he was.
"You… What would you call us?" he asked, still looking at her. He wasn't certain which emotions his eyes conveyed but when her eyebrows lifted curiously he guessed his typically stoic eyes were just as nervous as the rest of him.
"I don't know," she replied softly.
"Would you say we're in a relationship?" he questioned, his hand gripping the box too tightly. She nodded. "What kind?"
"I'm not certain. I don't know relationships… Why? What's wrong?" She was sitting up now, her feathery black hair falling into her face messily. He loved when she looked like that.
Swallowing thickly, he walked over to her and knelt done on one knee. "Will you marry me?"
The shock on her face worried him but he saw joy in her glittering green eyes too. "…I…" She became silent again and he felt his heart pounding insanely in his chest, beating against his rib cage furiously.
"I know I'm like…odd… We're not really dating and we're never really told each other how we feel but…through the years you were the only thing that kept me going and…I…well… I love you."
She suddenly moved and hugged him, her face pressed to his shoulder. Her voice was muffled by his body and tears as she asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Because I was afraid of your reaction?" he tried. She laughed and kept her face against his shoulder. "Yeah, I just realized what… Yes… I've been too much of a coward to admit my feelings but it's been a year since we met, under normal circumstances I mean, and you gave up your job for me and… I just… I had to try," he explained weakly as he hugged her as tightly as possible. His hand with the box rubbed her back and he buried his face into her hair, again inhaling her sweet scent.
"God, you're a dork," she laughed. He noticed how her voice was choked with tears. She pulled away and he noticed how her eyes were somewhat bloodshot. They stayed on their knees and she breathed, "Ask me again."
"Okay. Will you marry me?" he asked, looking into her green eyes. Her hands lifted and rested on the sides of his face.
"I'd like nothing more than to be your wife," she replied, leaning into him again. Their lips touched in a familiar loving kiss and the box fell from his hands, almost forgotten. When they pulled apart and leaned their foreheads together, with their eyes closed, he smiled.
"Happy Valentine's Day."
"So, if Miller and Redfield disliked me before…what now?" she asked as they lay in bed together. They were still in their clothes, save their shoes, and they lay under the thick blankets absorbing each other's warmth.
"Who the hell cares? Honestly, I'm sick of them trying to pull us apart. I love you. You love me. Isn't that all that matters?" he mumbled, gently stroking her hair. Her fingers rested near his throat, every now and then brush against his throat and sending shivers down his spine.
"You'd think but people…I don't care. Let's not think about them. You're adorable, you know that?" He smiled and gently moved, turning onto his side. He kidded her shoulder lightly, almost barely touching her skin at all. "And you're a really good kisser."
"Heh… That's a good thing, I suppose?" he questioned softly. He moved and kissed her neck. Her hand from his throat and gently ran over his back.
"Hm…" she mumbled. "A very good thing, love." He stopped kissing her and lifted himself to look down at her. She reached up and gently twirled a lock of his hair on her index finger.
"Well, soon-to-be Mrs. Kennedy, are you happy?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he stared down at her. Her emerald eyes met his and a smile, one so warm and loving it was almost unfamiliar, answered him.
"I'm very happy. Couldn't be happier. I've over the rainbow happy," she said. He grinned at her statement. "However, I have a very important request for our wedding, Mr. Kennedy."
"Anything babe," he said with a pleasant smile.
"Our wedding theme…is going to be red and blue."
A slight pause met her, though he looked happier than ever before, and then he said, "I'd have it no other way."
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day. I know, it's highly unlikely but I don't care. I thought it was cute and that's all that matters. (Yeah, seriously, you should know who the characters are.)