Chapter Text
“Delia,” Patsy wrings her hands nervously, inhaling deeply through her nostrils as if to breath in conviction. “There’s something I need to say to you.”
By all accounts, it had been a perfect evening. Dinner, dancing, décolletage… Delia has never had a night so close to the Hollywood ideal. The only thing that could make it more perfect is if a fairy godmother literally appeared to grant Mary Cynthia the power of speech and turn her old scooter into a Rolls Royce.
But Patsy looks a bit like she’s about to vomit all over the bed, where she’s suddenly interrupted their (rather promising) snogfest.
“Go ahead, then,” Delia replies, still a bit dazed from the rush of blood to her skin.
“When you go away to film again, I don’t just want to be your girlfriend left behind.”
She looks at her pleadingly, before standing and pacing in front of the bed.
“I hadn’t exactly planned to do this right now, but, oh fuck.”
With that, she exits the room purposefully, leaving Delia thoroughly confused and more than a little bit angry.
“Are you honestly dumping me right now? After maybe the best date of my life? I’ve been on a lot of dates, Patience Mount, I have very high standards.”
Now Delia is up and charging after Patsy.
(After all, they live together. Where exactly is she going to leave to?)
She’s just about to really lay into her when the redhead returns, knocking them both to the ground in the process.
She offers Delia a hand up, and the brunette accepts skeptically.
“Oh, god, Delia, no, I just, you need to stand you see, so I can kneel, that is how these things are done…”
Patsy assumes the position and proffers a simple, elegant ring from her pocket.
“I want to be left behind as your wife, Delia.”
Oh.
Well.
“But you don’t believe in marriage, Patsy.”
“I didn’t believe in many things before I met you. And truth be told, I’m not entirely sold on the institution, but I do know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I always prefer to have things in writing.”
Delia nods.
“That does make an unromantic sort of sense, I suppose.”
Patsy bites her lip, worriedly.
“Delia?”
“Yes?”
“You still haven’t actually answered my question.”
“You never actually posed one. You made a statement.”
Patsy rolls her eyes, arms beginning to tremble from their frozen pose.
“Delia Busby, would you do me the greatest honor I’ve ever known and take my hand in lawfully wedded matrimony?”
Delia tackles her to the ground in a puppy-like kiss before responding.
“Abso-fucking-lutely!”
They don’t need words for a good while after that, but a thought comes to Delia as she regains her faculties.
“Pats?”
“Mmmm, yes, Deels?”
“You do know that my mother will insist on planning every detail of the ceremony.”
“And yet, I still want to marry you. It must really be love, huh?”