Work Text:
It was fall when Emily agreed to a date.
Dinner turned into drinks. Then the bar closed and they went to his place, where she inspected all the photos on his shelf.
"Who's that guy?" Emily said.
"Tony. Grew up with him. Lived just down the street from me." Dave snorted. "He was bigger than my brothers, even though we were both younger, and he used to threaten to beat them up when they teased me."
"Big, bad David Rossi needed a neighbor to protect him?" she asked.
"Hey, I have five brothers, and I was the youngest. Who do you think got smacked around the most?"
She'd laughed at him. Of course she'd laughed at him. And the funny thing was that he didn't mind it. In fact, he hadn't even thought anything of it until after she was gone and he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and reliving the night in his mind.
Wife number four? Maybe. Eventually. It was a good start, anyway.
Dave was standing next to a tall, good-looking black man with an afro in the photograph. His arm was draped over Dave, who looked somewhat short by comparison. Dave was in a brown suede jumpsuit. It had a huge collar, and flared pants, and instead of the goatee, Dave had a set of impressive mutton chops.
And he and Tony were flashing a peace sign.
It was fucking embarrassing.
"Is that supposed to be sexy?"
"It was the 70s. Yes, it was supposed to be sexy. Trust me, I got a lot of ladies looking like that."
Emily snorted and tried to unsuccessfully hold another laugh. At that, Dave scowled. She covered her mouth, watching him, until she could control herself, then cupped his face in her hands. "I bet you did."
It had been amazing, really. Dave had never felt as close to anyone as he did Emily. In all the time he'd played the field, he'd never connected so quickly.
Well, it took a little patience. Emily was nothing if not cautious. Dave had to wear her down enough to even ask her out. But as soon as it happened, it was magnetic. They talked. All the time. And Dave didn't mind the incessant questions. It was sometimes almost as though Emily was trying to soak up what a normal childhood was like, having missed that when she was young.
Not that Dave's life had been typical, but normal is relative.
*
Fall turned into winter.
Dave found out Emily wasn't always a badass with a gun.
Emily shrieked when the gun fired. It was utterly ridiculous, as she'd fired a shotgun before, but there it was. She shrieked, then let the barrel of the gun drop to the ground and covered her eyes with her free hand. "Did I hit it?"
"You've got to be kidding me," Dave said, watching her.
She dropped her hand and smacked his shoulder, turning a glare on him. "I'm not kidding, Dave."
Dave rubbed at his shoulder, feigning hurt, then looked over at Mudgie. He was standing at the edge of the water, looking back at Dave and Emily expectantly. Clearly, there was no duck worth jumping into the frigid lake to retrieve. Dave gestured at the dog. "Ask him?"
"Dave," she complained.
"You can shoot a human being from a mile away, but this bothers you? I thought you liked duck."
"I do, but I've never had to shoot it before I ate it before. And the duck hasn't been running all up and down the state killing people!" she snapped.
He laughed.
In retrospect, maybe being a smart ass wasn't a great idea. Especially considering Emily had a shotgun in hand.
He'd never been yelled at by her before, but he knew he probably shouldn't think it was sexy. Knowing that he shouldn't think that didn't stop him from thinking it, though.
Mudgie looked confused.
"Damn it, it's not funny," Emily growled.
Dave held his hands up in surrender. Unfortunately the smile on his face wasn't as firmly attached to his survival instinct, and was far less inclined to see the error of its ways.
"Stop smiling."
"I can't," Dave said, then accidentally laughed again. It was hopeless. He was glad she hadn't actually lifted the shotgun and pointed it at him. What she did do was worse, though. Her brow creased and her lips thinned. Then she turned away.
Shit.
The smile faded.
It was one of their better dates. Once Dave did some grovelling and ushered her back to his warm car, a baffled retriever padding along behind them. He kissed her once they were inside it, and she tensed, but he didn't let her pull away until she relaxed into his embrace.
Mudgie was even more confused when they didn't pull out of their secluded parking spot right away, opting to make out like teenagers for a good twenty minutes.
"You live too far from the lake," Dave complained.
They stumbled into Emily's brownstone, and she pressed him against the wall. "Never hunting again," she said, words muffled into his goatee, hands roaming.
"As long as you keep touching me like that, I don't give a damn," Dave breathed.
Clothes got fumbled off down the hallway, and Dave walked into a table, sending a decorative vase crashing off. Or at least that's what he guessed it was, but Emily seemed more interested in pulling the fly of his jeans open than checking on what fell, so he didn't really look either.
It wasn't graceful, but it didn't matter. Emily tripped over her own shoe in the bedroom, but that only got them falling (literally) into bed faster. Dave spared one last thought for the fallen vase, and then her bra and panties were being tossed across the room.
God, her skin was pale. And perfect. And he was going to taste every inch of it.
Not graceful. Not perfect. And at times, downright ridiculous. But it was okay for sex to be a little funny, Dave thought, and he was pleased to find out Emily didn't mind a little laughter peppering the gasping and moaning. He didn't even mind that she giggled when she poked the little bit of belly pudge he had like it was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.
Oh, why was that sexy? That surely shouldn't be sexy. But it was even better than getting her to yell at him.
*
Winter turned into spring.
Dave found out that Emily was in love with a weed.
”Dandelions aren’t flowers,” he said, and she blew against the fluffy white head of the dead flower she’d just picked. The seeds fluttered in his face and she laughed.
“Yes they are.” She blew at the few fuzzy seeds left in top of the flower. “A weed is simply a plant that is growing where you you don’t want it to grow. I like dandelions. I have no problem with them. Hence, not a weed.”
She sounded smug. It probably had a lot to do with having him pinned to the ground in his back yard. She was straddling his waist, and he sighed (partly to blow a loose fluffy seed thing--whatever they were called--off his eyebrow) then looked up at her. "This wasn't really what I meant by gardening,"
"I don't mind," she said.
"I noticed." He gave her a flat stare, then turned his head and yanked the closest dandelion to him out of the ground. "Ugly."
She snatched it away. "Common isn't ugly," she protested. "Don't write something off just because it's inelegant."
A smile stretched across his face immediately. "Hey, I'm dating you, aren't I?"
She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, and thrust the heel of her hand against his chest. "David Rossi!" she scolded, and he just put his hands up in surrender.
It hadn't really occurred to him until later that they'd never actually talked about what this was between them.
She agreed to the initial date, but then it had just turned into hanging out together. Logically, they knew it was dating, but it never fit into any mold of what dating was supposed to be like. They went to work, talked work, went out of town, worked some more, had sex, had wine, work, Chinese takeout, sex, work, work, coffee, then more work. That was just the way it was.
But it was this day when it hit.
When he grunted in reaction to her blow, she laughed, but it didn't last long before she sat back.
When he looked back up at her, the dandelion was pressed lightly to her lips, but the gesture was absent. Her eyebrows lifted, and Dave wasn't sure what the expression on her face was.
"Dating?" she said.
He blinked, not understanding at first. Then he smiled. "Dating."
The delicate stem twisted in her fingers, forgotten, and she pressed her lips together. For a moment, Dave wasn't sure she was going to say anything... which turned into a strange fear she might deny their status the longer she stayed silent.
Just when he was about to open his mouth, though, she huffed a laugh.
"Good," she said softly, her smile warming again. She lifted her fingers to his temples and brushed them through his hair. "Don't ever dye the grey again."
And then he was confused again. "Huh?"
"You dye it occasionally. Now that I'm your girlfriend, I have a say in this stuff," she informed him. "The grey is nice."
That took a moment to sink in, but then he couldn't help the sudden laugh that bubbled up from him. "How long have you been waiting to tell me that?"
She put on an innocent grin and shrugged. "However long it's been since the first time I saw you dye it."
Dave decided grey hair was sexy that day.
*
Spring turned into summer.
Dave found out Emily was in love with him.
The funny thing was, he thought he was about to be dumped. She seemed so uncomfortable all night that he was bracing for the worst when she finally fumbled the words "I love you" out of her mouth.
She really was as emotionally awkward as she claimed on some occasions.
Dave loved her too.
*
Summer turned back into fall.
Dave found out.
"Dave, I'm pregnant."
He would never forget this day. The way her eyes were somehow both happy and scared at the same time. The way she was looking at him, hopeful and terrified. The way he was too shocked to reply at first.
"Dave..."
He would probably never really understand why it was that she looked more beautiful than ever. Or why his chest ached. Was it happiness or fear? Maybe both. Maybe it was exactly what she was feeling.
"Dave," she said sharply
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Shit. This was happening now, wasn't it?
"Say something," Emily said, the sharpness fading into an almost pleading tone.
"I... I don't know what to say."
"Anything," Emily whispered.
"Marry me," Dave said, and was surprised when she laughed. Maybe as surprised as she was.
"Anything but that." But her expression was changing. The fear was slipping away, replaced by relief. He reached out a hand and tugged her onto his lap. "Thank you," she whispered, her lips against his hair.
"For what?"
"Not running."
Dave let out a breath. He felt like he was coming out of a fog. All those things they'd done, all the fun they'd had, seemed like just yesterday. Just a few minutes ago. Just now.
"Too stunned to run," he replied, and then felt himself returning to his body. He pulled her close as she laughed. God, she had the most beautiful laugh. He cupped her cheek and made her look at him. "Marry me."
She shook her head ruefully. "I'm not going to get married just because I'm p-"
"It's not because-"
She pressed a finger to his lips. "It'll always be a question in my mind."
Dave stared at her. He didn't really like her answer, but she had a point. He knew the news had brought about his proposal, but now that it was out of his mouth, he wondered where the words had been all this time. "Next week?" he breathed, then pulled her close for a kiss.
She laughed against his lips, then whispered, "Maybe next year."
"Next year?" he murmured, a weak protest. His hand slipped across her stomach. God, his kid was in there. His kid.
Her hand covered his, and he could tell, even with her this close, that her smile had gone ridiculously wide. "I'll think about it."
"You're not getting any younger, you know." He stole a kiss before she could react, then held her close as she laughed against his lips. Tomorrow he would bring her a bouquet of dandelions, and maybe she'd think about his proposal a little faster.