Work Text:
Jo watches the light glint off the gold band in the late afternoon sunlight. It's still beautiful, as old as it is. Maybe it's beautiful because it's as old as it is. She thinks, for the thousandth time, about the woman who wore this first. Did she feel the same as she slipped it on in the morning and placed it somewhere safe at night? That her life was over-full with life and love and wonderful memories, yet had barely just begun?
She hears Henry's voice from the bathroom. "Did you decide on a dress yet?"
She focuses back on the present, pulling herself from her memories. "Not yet." With a touch of annoyance, she adds, "It would help if you would tell me where we're going."
"Patience, my dear Detective," he calls back. "Whatever you choose will be perfect…"
She can hear a hesitation. "But…?"
"But nothing!"
She rises from the edge of the bed where she'd been sitting, still in her work clothes. She doesn't know how much time she has; Henry has been ambiguous about the whole evening. She heads for the bathroom—maybe she can get an idea by the way Henry is dressed.
She finds him standing at the mirror above the sink, applying artful touches of gray dye to his hair. She's never asked him to do that, even once she had decided not to cover her own gray as it appeared. She likes how the gray looks; it gives him back some of the gravitas he has earned, which his youthful appearance doesn't allow.
He's still in an undershirt and his trousers from earlier, so that's no help there. But the touch-up must mean they're going out on the town. Otherwise, why bother? Maybe there's another way to get a hint.
She slips her arms around him from behind, placing a gentle kiss at the base of his neck. He sets the dye wand on the edge of the sink, and his eyes close. "Just a hint," she says, kissing him again. "Dress up or down? Are we going to walk or drive? Inside or outside?"
He spins in her arms to face her, kissing her on the forehead. "I told you before—anything you choose will be fine. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I gave you a hint, would it?"
"Fine," she says, tilting her chin to kiss him full on the mouth, but carefully so as not to disturb the color in his hair. Stepping back, she says, "I'll just call Abby, find out what she knows…"
He makes a grab for her and misses. She may be slowing down a little lately, but she is still better trained. "Abby doesn't know anything!" he warns Jo. "She's too busy with exams."
It's probably true, but Abby and her father are as thick as thieves. She'd insisted on attending NYU to stay close to home. Henry had to have let something slip in the planning phase of this whole anniversary extravaganza.
"I don't know anything, Mom," Abby says when Jo calls. "I swear I tried to get him to talk, but he was in 'top-secret' mode. You know, the way he gets."
Boy, does she know. "It was worth a try. Kill those exams, okay?"
"I will." When the call disconnects, Jo's eyes land on a framed photo on the dresser: Abe holding little Abby in his arms, smiling like a proud grandpa instead of a proud older brother. Her lips quirk with fondness. Abe would have told her what Henry was planning.
With a sigh, she turns back to the closet. There are years' worth of clothing in there—each with its own memory. First official date. Day she told Henry she was pregnant. Night they celebrated her promotion to captain. Most of them still fit, though several are long out-of-style.
Then she sees it: a knee-length red dress with a low V-neck. It's simple, yet classic. And she still remembers the way Henry looked at her when she first wore it. She takes it off the hangar and studies it, the memory of the light in his eyes strong in her mind, and the huskiness in his voice when he said, "Happy anniversary, Jo," that very first time. It didn't stay on long.
She tucks it underneath her suit jacket and slips back into the bedroom to find Henry carefully buttoning up a crisp, white shirt. "I'm just going to—" she tells him before heading into the bathroom to shower and change.
"I'll be downstairs," he says as she shuts the door. Downstairs? Is he preparing the surprise there? Or does he simply want to read in his favorite chair while he waits? Either way, it gives her a chance to make one of those grand movie-style romantic entrances. Normally, she would laugh at her own silliness, but this is a special anniversary, after all. It deserves something extra.
She takes her time, washing off the day and mentally preparing for the night. She tries to mimic the style of her hair back then, and the makeup, but eventually decides it's too much trouble. While she's selecting a necklace, Henry's voice floats up the stairs. "Are you almost ready?"
He doesn't sound impatient, just curious. Perhaps he does have the surprise downstairs. With a shrug, she sets the jewelry box aside and goes bare-necked. "I'll be right there."
At the top of the stairs, she pauses. He's not in sight. How can she make her grand entrance if he's not there to see it? She takes in a breath to call for him, and then he appears at the bottom of the stairs. Her breath catches in her throat. He's beautiful, preternaturally so—it takes her all the way back to 2015 when they first met, before she knew what they'd eventually be to each other, a spark between them nonetheless.
"Jo," he says, his voice husky with memory. He looks like he can barely breathe himself. She recovers and walks downward, careful step by careful step, never taking her eyes off his. When she reaches the bottom step, he holds out his hand to her, the consummate gentleman. She takes it, and he pulls her into an embrace, kissing the bare hollow of her throat.
She lifts his chin with a finger, and whispers, "Happy 25th Anniversary, Henry," just before kissing him thoroughly.
The dress doesn't stay on long this time, either. The surprise remains a surprise. "Next year," he promises her, kissing her lightly on the nose.
He isn't getting away with that. She tumbles him over onto his back and hovers over him like a lioness that has pounced on its prey. "Don't you dare make me wait that long."
"Don't worry," he says, pulling her downward. "We've got plenty of time left together for surprises."