Work Text:
The vineyard spread out in neat green rows, the late-afternoon sun painting the horizon gold. Mel had been to places like this dozens of times, diplomatic visits, art galas, endless tastings in half a dozen countries, but never with Jayce. That changed everything.
He was too tall for the tiny wooden tasting counter, shoulders hunched slightly as he leaned to listen to the sommelier. His brow furrowed as though decoding an ancient manuscript, when all the man had asked him to do was sniff the wine.
Jayce swirled his glass with too much vigor, nearly sloshing it over the rim. “Right,” he muttered, raising it to his nose. “So, I’m supposed to…smell fruit? Spice?”
The sommelier gave a patient smile. Mel bit her lip, amused.
Jayce inhaled deeply, then blinked, baffled. “It smells like…wine.”
Mel nearly choked on her sip. The other tasters chuckled, but Jayce flushed scarlet, determined now. “No, wait, let me try again. There’s something—” He paused, frowning at his glass as if it might yield its secrets if he stared hard enough. “It’s kind of…red?”
That did it, Mel pressed her fingers to her mouth to stifle her laugh, her shoulders trembling. He turned on her, mock-offended. “Don’t you dare.”
“You’re adorable,” she said, her voice warm despite her teasing. “It’s cherry, darling. Or at least that’s what you’re meant to say.”
“Cherry,” he repeated solemnly, as if she’d handed him the key to state secrets. Then, quieter, with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth: “You like laughing at me.”
“Only because you’re impossible not to love when you’re flustered.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, her heart stuttering.
He went still, eyes catching hers in the slanting sunlight. For a moment, the bustle of tourists and the drone of the sommelier disappeared. It was just the two of them, suspended in the warmth of the vineyard, her confession hanging in the air.
Jayce’s smile softened, shy and luminous. He reached across the counter, brushing his fingers over hers. “Then I’ll make a fool of myself every day if it means hearing you laugh like that.”
Her chest ached with a sudden, sharp tenderness.
By the time they left the vineyard, dusk had settled. The bottles they’d purchased clinked softly in Jayce’s bag, and he was looser now, tipsy in a way that made him affectionate and clingy. He insisted on carrying her shawl draped over his arm, and at one point bent to kiss her hand with a flourish that nearly sent him stumbling into a cobblestone gutter.
Mel guided him gently toward a small bakery still open at the edge of the square. Warm lamplight spilled through the windows, illuminating shelves of tarts and loaves dusted with flour. The smell was heavenly.
Jayce pressed his nose to the glass like a boy at a toy shop. “We have to go in.”
Inside, the baker behind the counter raised a brow at the sight of them; a woman in silk, a man still in his rolled-up dress shirt, both flushed from wine and grinning like thieves. Jayce picked out pastries with greedy enthusiasm, ordering far too many.
“You’ll make yourself sick,” Mel warned as they carried a paper box to a corner table.
“I’ll share,” he promised, tearing into a flaky croissant and holding it out to her. “Here, try.”
She arched a brow but leaned forward, letting him feed her the first bite. Butter melted on her tongue, the sweetness of jam bright against it. She hummed in approval, and Jayce looked so thoroughly enchanted that she smiled, flustered.
“Good?” he asked, his voice low, almost earnest.
“Very,” she said, licking a bit of jam from her lip.
His gaze followed the motion, and suddenly the warmth of the bakery seemed much too close. He leaned across the table, just a fraction, his amber eyes dark with something heavier than wine.
Mel smiled, indulging him with a touch of her fingers to his jaw. “Careful, darling. You’ll have me thinking this was more than an excuse for dessert.”
Jayce caught her hand, pressing a kiss into her palm, sugar-sweet and reverent. “It was always more.”
Her laughter was soft, shaken by the truth of it. In the golden glow of the bakery, with crumbs scattered between them and wine lingering in her veins, Mel let herself believe him.
And later, when they left with sugared fingers entwined, the night air was crisp with promise, as though the whole city knew she had already chosen him.