I'm a huge musical theatre geek, and My Fair Lady is my all-time favourite stage musical. That being said, please note that my Eliza is that of Alan J. Lerner/Moss Hart/Julie Andrews' creation. And so, I do hope you enjoy this little drabble. :)

Eliza struggled to unlatch the clasp of her pearl necklace, and gave up after several unsuccessful attempts, deciding instead to wait for Henry to come upstairs into their room to do it for her. She opted to start removing the pins and hair clasp that held her hair elegantly piled on her head in a fitting array of curls and twists. Just as she released the twist of long, thick dark brown hair, Henry came whistling cheerfully in, tugging at his tie.

One glance at his wife, who hated to take her hair down before removing jewelry for the dread of getting hair irreversibly tangled into the fine chinks of her necklaces and snagged in any earrings, told him that she needed help with her necklace. He went over to attend his duty, standing behind her. He kept his gaze upon her eyes in the mirror's reflection as he pulled the item away from and over her head.

She had one hand extended to take the necklace from him, saying softly, "Thank you, Henry."

Unable to draw himself from Eliza, Henry smiled back and placed a tender kiss on her head. Without hesitation, he took her hair in his hands and began to work it out of its twists and cleverly devised knots, running his fingers through her long locks. He took the brush she held out to him, and gently began to brush it out, the result being silky, shiny waves that cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. She was smiling contently, eyes closed, and positively glowing.

Once Henry was wholly satisfied with her appearance, feeling quite the not-so-average man and incredibly lucky indeed, he leaned over her shoulder and set the brush on the table, and then drew back, shrugging off his jacket and quickly undressing for bed.

Eliza still said nothing; simply watched her husband for a while, admiring and loving him for the curmudgeon he was. She still wasn't quite sure how she'd ever been deemed worthy of a man that so easily balanced and irritated her at the same time. Maybe it was the challenge he posed for her in every aspect of her consciousness. She found herself quite tolerant of him where others weren't, and was quick to admonish him where others wouldn't dare. Perhaps, to some degree, it had to do with a faint understanding that opposites attract, for there never was a more contrasting couple than Henry and Eliza Higgins. The thing that intrigued people was that oddly enough, they complimented each other at the same time that they contrasted.

Laying his things out on the chair in the far corner of the room so they wouldn't wrinkle over night, Henry glanced over to Eliza. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her gaze upon him, and asked curiously, "My darling, aren't you going to undress for bed? Did you want a flatiron warmed for the bed?"

Eliza shook her head. "No, darling. I'm just thinking of how much I love you."

Henry gave an "oh" of slight understanding and climbed into bed. Eliza rose to her feet and went to the bedside, picking up her laid out nightgown and unbuttoning the neck. Undoing the back of her dress – the old white one that she'd worn to the Embassy Ball on that fateful night three years ago – she let the fine material slip from her shoulders and slide smoothly to the ground. She took her nightgown in hand and pulled it over her head, lastly stepping out of the gown that had piled at her feet, then quickly hung it up in the armoire and crawled into bed beside her husband, cuddling up to him in a warm ball. She was hiding a smirk from him by burying her head in the crook of his arm, for she'd noticed his appreciative staring as she had changed clothing.

Henry asked quietly, listening to the wind blow outside their window, "Do my eyes deceive me, or did you wear that gown for a purpose other than taking every man and woman's breath away with your beauty, Liza?"

Eliza craned her head to look into his eyes from her position in his arms. "Yes."


"You know as well as I, 'enry 'iggins," she answered, smiling as one of his strong arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. "Good night, my love."

Henry didn't answer for a while, caught up in thinking of miracles. He finally whispered, "I love you too, and good night, my little guttersnipe."