milliways_bar | (no subject)

In actuality he's calculating.

$1500 in credit on his tab now...

Wedding stuff costs...well, lots, that much he knows.

Maybe he could somehow rob something. Just a little something. A tiny little something no one would ever, ever miss...

But the woman pays for the wedding. She just wants a nice ring...one that'll more than double his tab...heh...but still...

"Warren..."

The woman's father. And Warren's your daddy now, Kitten. He reluctantly tears himself away from math.

"Yeah?"

"Baby...if you're not ready to talk about this we don't have to okay?"

She looks pained to say this though. She hadn't been meaning to get her hopes up but...

He looks confused.

"No, it's...I like cake."

"Look...if you really ask me, we'll start talking about plans and stuff, okay?"

She's hurting. She shouldn't be...but she is. She'd said earlier that she wouldn't have a problem waiting. That she wasn't expecting him to ask for awhile yet. But she wanted so much to believe he would...

But Warren has to plan plans before he allows himself to begin planning them. No failure. Or smallest possible possibility of. He'll draw up bluprints if he can. Or collums on collums of numbers.

"I...w-..." he stutters.

Because he sort of thought he did.

Nope. She'd told him when he really asked it had to be romantic with a really nice ring. That doesn't equate to bedside chatter.

Ah the joys of miscommunication. She slides off of his lap, moving to sit in the seat catty corner to his.

"Baby. It's fine."

But Warren has neither romance, nor a really nice ring. He has clumsy, goofy, fumbling need, and fear, and weakness, and dubious charm, and dubious looks, and an army of the wrong things to say at his disposal.

And now he has a cold empty lap as well.

"Is it fine, or are you saying it's fine?"

"I dunno. I don't even know what's going on." She leans on one arm, then lays it down on the table, head still atop it.

"That...makes two of us," he says.

He reaches out to stroke her hair.

"Uh. Hey! Let's...not have a...thing," he suggests. "Disagreement. Since we both...don't know."

Her hand of the arm under her head stretches out to him. "We aren't having a thing."

He lets out a relieved breath.

"Oh. Good."

He can never tell. He's never sure what it is he does (he's sure it's something), or when, until it's too late.

Time machine. More reason for the time machine. You thought he forgot about the time machine, didn't you?

"So, uh, who's hotter? Me? Or, uh, the other, apparently, me?"

Ice breaker!

"You. He's a little trimmer, an d has facial hair. He's a good looking guy but he's not you."

He beams and pats her hair less timidly.

"That's my girl."

Good answer.

She smiles at him. "What can I say? I'm hopelessly in love with you. And really you're just so...I dunno. You. You're charismatic."

He laughs, but looks proud.

"All right. I'll keep you."

"Forever?"

"Just about. Maaaaaybe, like, minute less than," he teases.

It might not be the best idea.

Yeah but he's dead...maybe he says it because he thinks there is no forever for him. She thinks there is though.

She shrugs.

On the contrary. He's dead. There's now more forever that there's ever been.

"What's that mean?"

He takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

"It means I'm stressing over stupid stuff."

She stands up, moving back into his lap and cuddling close to him. "I don't ever want to be without you, Warren. I want to be your wife...to be the moter of your children...to be beside you forever. I just worry that maybe you'll stop wanting that."

He shakes his head.

"Nah."

He has yet to stop loving anyone he's ever loved thus far. They're the ones who stop.

Maybe he should be worried.

Maybe he should get a ring...