Work Text:
She’s so fucking angry. She’s so angry that she wishes in this moment she had the super strength of Captain America so she could crush this crystal glass into smithereens with one small squeeze of her hand. Actually she wishes the glass was Rio’s head, and that she could squeeze it till his eyeballs popped from them like those squishy toys Jane had begged her to buy from the supermarket.
She throws back another gulp of her bourbon and motions the bartender for another. She’s beginning to lose track of the number of glasses she’s had and she thinks it’s a blessing. The more she drinks, the more she forgets. And with every mouthful of brown liquor, the burn and embarrassment of what had transpired over dinner seems to ebb away.
The anger transforms into a sense of melancholy, like how when the fire burns out and all that’s left is a pile of ashes, still warm to the touch but no longer scalding hot.
“Well, the best way to avoid this situation is for both of you to get married.” Gretchen states plainly, her fork stabbing at the bowl of salad in front of her, chasing the cherry tomatoes that seem to be deliberately avoiding her.
“Absolutely not.” Elizabeth hadn’t gotten the chance to even consider that option, when Rio shot her down. His voice was firm and left no room for discussion. And while she was just about to protest the idea herself, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of tears as they welled up in her eyes.
She excused herself to head to the washroom, but instead slipped out of the restaurant backdoor and ended up here. In this stupid bar he owned and drinking her weight's worth in bourbon.
They’d been seeing each other for awhile now. Jane and Marcus were as thick as thieves. The children had gotten used to him staying over at the house and Danny had accidentally called him Daddy last week, which had surprised them both.
So to have him reject the idea of marriage that resolutely, it kind of broke her heart. She knows it’s ridiculous, that he probably doesn’t want to get into a marriage seeing as to how hers and Dean had completely combusted into flames at the end. But she can’t shake the thought that perhaps it’s not that he doesn’t want to get married. But that he doesn’t want to get married to her. Groaning, she tips the glass back and empties it once more.
She sways a little on her seat as she tries to shimmy herself into a more comfortable position. The room is spinning, just slightly. And she lets out a small giggle. Alcohol does make everything better.
“You’re looking a little unsteady there, Elizabeth.” At the recognition of his voice, she lets out a huge scowl before steeling her gaze and meeting his straight on.
“Says the one with three heads.” She lets out a little drunkenly, her fingers pointing to the double image her alcohol vision has bestowed upon her.
He laughs. The audacity! The audacity of him to turn her down and then find her here in this club which, she had come to first, which therefore means belonged to her. He should be getting out of this place right now. Crossing her arms in front of her and pouting, she huffs out dramatically. Rio reaches to brush a strand of hair from her face and she leans into his touch despite herself.
“You know why I said no right? It shouldn’t be like this. We shouldn’t get married just because of the FBI.” He whispers, his voice low and sincere next to her ear.
She lets out another huge puff of breath, her bangs flying upwards from the sudden woosh and she rolls her eyes.
“What difference does it make? Marriage is marriage. Besides, we’re already living together.” She whines, surprising herself when she sounds slightly like a petulant child.
“I don’t want you to do it, heck, I don’t want us to do it just for the sake of doing it. You mean more to me than that. And if that means we have to find another way to keep the FBI off our backs, we’ll find another way.” He sighs after he finishes, his fingers drawing small circles on the back of her palm.
She knows how he feels. It’s way too unromantic, even for them. To be cornered into tying the knot so they can’t be forced to testify against each other should there come a day like this in court. She knows he thinks she deserves better, but right now, too many bourbons into the night, she thinks she wants him, whether it’s happening like this or not.
“I just want to marry you. Doesn’t matter if we have a huge wedding with the bells ringing, the dresses, the veil, the ring. Or if it’s just a courthouse ceremony, your word on paper, with mine next to it.” It’s her turn to take his hand in her small ones now, tracing every line on his palm with a finger of her own, as if wondering where she fits in this hand which supposedly maps out his entire life.
He sighs, looking into her blue eyes, Rio understands where she’s coming from. Knows that she’s not the type to want things fancy and over the top. But even then, she deserves a proper proposal. Maybe not the kind where he gets down on a knee during dessert and digs out a diamond ring hidden in her tiramisu...he cringes at the thought of that. But definitely a proposal at least.
He pulls his hands away from hers, stopping her from mulling in her thoughts. Then he reaches into his shirt and pulls out the chain he’s been wearing all his life. On the end of it, is a Saint Christopher’s cross and a recent addition, a small silver ring he’s been wearing for a few months since he picked out a pair he couldn’t take his eyes off. It matches the one he wears on his hand. It’s not a diamond, but it could pass off as a wedding band.
Rio toys the ring in his hands, gently balancing it on his thumb and forefinger as he watches her eyes widen as she clocks it. He’s taunting her, he knows. And he loves this game they play, always wondering who’ll give in first, who will offer enough for the other party to show their hand and bend to their will.
The tiny silver thing glistens in the dim light of the bar and he thinks that in just another second, he’ll have her, and she’ll be reaching out for it. He has the upper hand.
“I dare you.” She challenges him, there’s a mischievous spark in her eyes that make the blues in it deepen, kind of like the ocean before a storm.
He smirks in confusion, but encourages her on by tilting his chin towards her.
“I dare you to marry me.” There it is. His Elizabeth. Even when tempted into his corner, even when she’s toeing the trigger to his trap, she challenges him in his own way. And even though he’s just waiting for her to give in, he was always going to ask anyway. He wants this. Wants to be her partner in every sense. Wants to marry her.
“I’m not gonna fall for that, Elizabeth.” He taunts her back. He can play this game with her a little while longer. He sees her break into a grin, it’s so wide and her eyes have narrowed from how large her smile is and he can see that little incisor breaking through her lips and he wants to kiss her so badly.
“Then I win.” She’s still smiling, her fingers holding onto the small silver band now and he’s taken aback by how good it looks against her fair skin, like it’s always belonged on her. She’s beautiful, her cheeks coloured by the numerous drinks she’s had tonight. She’s laid back, she’s in the mood to play, and he can’t help but think of what it would be like to say goodbye to her lips every night and get to say hello to it again when he wakes. He thinks of her in white, in a small church, her face veiled but still visible. He thinks of her saying yes, and he wants to leap out of his seat and grasp that imagery in his hands. Make it real.
“What? Hell no! I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you right away. Mick, get us a church right now. You think you can just win like that? Hell no.” She can tell he’s kidding now. His tone is exaggerated and he’s waving his hands around dramatically and she’s bursting into a loud unabashed giggle while burying her face in his chest.
Behind her, she can hear Mick letting out a loud sigh at their antics, and she wants to tell him that they aren’t joking. She feels him slip the little silver band onto her finger, the cool metal slightly alien against the warm skin, and she shivers a little. The gesture small, but the significance loud and resolute. So even though she doesn’t hear him ask her proper, she replies to him anyway.
“Yes, I do.”