milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Your being the braun is actually oddly appropriate, considering I'm sure you could throw me ten miles if you really wanted to."

She did pitch Amy DeLuca's car at someone, as he recalls.

"Not that far." Faith kisses him. "But I'm not likely to be throwing you anywhere anyway."

Beat.

"Well, unless it's, you know, into bed."

"Or if I need to be somewhere else really fast and my bodily state doesn't otherwise matter," he suggests.

"Throwing me into Parliament would be an event, for sure. They'd all throw flowers."

Faith snorts. "Or lock me up for assaulting you. No thanks."

"They can't."

Pause.

He's never explained this, has he. Of course not. Silly Max.

"-- you know that charm bracelet Trillian wears?"

"....yeah?"

This could, of course, be a nonsequiter, but she doubts it.

"It's a symbol of alliances. Romantic and familial, really -- she's got a charm for Zaphod, a charm for Ford, a charm for Random and one she refuses to identify, and I've not been nosy enough to pry."

He waves his hand in the air, idly.

"And I've had one fashioned for you, if you like. With the King's stone - everyone will know you are my lover, and will treat you so."

"...oh, right."

Faith remembers this, now, from one of the books she was studying.

"The...wossname..."

The name doesn't translate to English.

So she says it in Antarian.

"I'd like that. Thank you, love."

And of course it's long and has more 'o's than your usual word may.

"'Wossname' suits, I think, for English. Of course -- only the best, darling."

He insists on this.

Which is why she gets one of the very best kisses ever.

Mmm, endearments.

And kisses.

The kiss is returned, with skill and enthusiasm.

In her mind, likely audible to Max, are two thoughts - on the surface, 'I love you,' which she pretty much always has in her head around him, and just under that, the passage she remembers reading about the bracelet.

Yes, if ever we have children, you'll have those stones too, he thinks back, softly.

He's not sure how the topic goes with her.

But it came up.

Faith goes very, very still.

There was a time when the very idea of motherhood would have had her running away like a scalded cat.

But....children with Max.

Oddly...not scary.

....well. You do need an heir, don't you? She pauses, swallowing, and pulls back a little, to look him in the eyes, her expression oddly serious. "'Course, you'd have to make an honest woman out of me first."

She's nervous. Very.

But not afraid.

It's Max. This is what she wants.

Max?

He's quiet.

And staring.
"Is that --"

"-- a question?" he finishes, lamely, but grinning foolishly. "An offer? A request?"

"....all of the above?"

Faith grins back, a little, hopefully and a bit dopily.

"I mean...if you want it to be."

"I'm supposed to be on one knee, not sitting on your lap."

Max is laughing, in spite of himself.

"And I should have a romantic speech written, and a huge diamond. But I think, somehow, this is a lot more us."

"You'll be my queen?"

"Well, I wouldn't say 'no' to the huge diamond."

Faith is laughing, too, and beaming.

"But...yes. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Don't worry."

Innocent look.

"You'll get a huge diamond."

"...you don't have to."

She kisses him again, slowly, thoroughly, with so much love.

You're all I need.

But I will.

You deserve it.

It takes about a minute for him to break that kiss.

"Face it," he says, "I'm spoiling you forever."

"I can live with that," Faith says, and beams at him.

Then pauses, as something occurs to her.

"....oh, god. Isabel is going to be insufferable."

"She's the one who tried to get us together in the first place."

Max laughs. "When she wasn't assuming I should marry Trillian. Which both of us are very glad was a pattern that died off quickly. Trillian should never be married, and as for me? Nothing more than a completely smitten one-woman man."

"... but yeah, we're screwed. Need earplugs."

"Oh, it's gonna be worse than that. You remember how nuts she went planning her own wedding...imagine that without the nerves."

Faith vaguely resembles a deer in the headlights.

"I officially appoint Meroin wedding planner," Max declares.

The quietest and most timid member of the higher court is obviously perfect for the job.

".....I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

More kissing follows.

It's enthusiastic.

There are no objections.

There is even reciprocation.

"She'll be happy as a clam to arrange flowers."

Meroin likes flowers. And she's quiet.