Disclaimer: I don't own Baccano, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Ryohgo Narita and Katsumi Enami. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.
Until I Made You Cry
"As I promised," he said, throwing an arm around her, "my career as the Rail Tracer is behind me. Just the way you wanted."
The two of them were seated in a park gazebo, hiding from the rain. The original plan had been for him to meet her here before leading her through the city to a restaurant that his brothers had helped vacate for this occasion. But, seeing how the sky above Manhattan was relentless and angry, they'd be trapped on this covered, wooden island for a while while the grass grew into a swamp.
If he stared long enough into the sheet of water dripping down over the pointed top, he could make out the ducks that were waddling about. The little ones, soaked down to their bones, were all in a rush, tumbling about behind their mother as she walked, shaking out her feathers now and again. She didn't seem too bothered by the moisture.
Through is coat, he could feel Chane shake a bit, presumably from the cold. He pulled it away from himself, slipping it around her. Even if she didn't need it.
"This was supposed to be a much nicer day," he said, laughing. "I had Luck set up something special for us, too. But if it keeps raining like this, we'll never make it."
Chane looked at him expectantly. She was curious, but he couldn't give it away. If he did, then it wouldn't mean nearly as much.
He recalled the words he'd spoke to her in the warehouse where that crazy mechanic had been holed up. He'd told her that he could wait to marry her if she wanted; that they could start out as friends and work their way up. Really, Claire had wanted her to be his from the first moment he'd looked at her, but he'd waited, and happily.
"I guess we could do it here," he said, reaching into his coat pocket. Chane looked at him with quiet eyes as he crouched beside the bench, pressing the velvet into her hand. "It's not the perfect proposal..." His first on the Flying Pussyfoot hadn't been either. "...but I think I've kept you waiting long enough."
Her reaction was the last thing he'd expected.
It made his insides shrivel up, the way she hung her head, dropping the box as she pressed her hands against her eyes. He'd been confident, certain that this would be the perfect time to ask her, the weather aside. Now, Claire was beginning to think that her tears would be the only thing that could kill him.
"If you're not ready, I can wait," he offered, silently begging her to smile. "Really. All you have to do is ask."
She shook her head, taking his hand and falling on the floor beside him. Her fingers grazed the now wet velvet, nodding furiously as she tried to open it through hazy eyes.
Chane nodded again.
He'd always thought that, were he to end up married like normal men of his time, the woman he asked would scream with joy. But she didn't need words or a voice to accept him. She just needed to be the way she was. Perfect.