Moderately Sparkly
Set in the
Amuse-Bouche universe shortly after Arthur proposes in
Lucky Socks.
Author note: I was planning to include this in the coda about Arthur & Eames' wedding, but reviewed it and thought it worked better as a stand alone ficlet. Happy new year!
Wordcount: 775
Mal peers over his shoulder. "My, that is… rather large."
"That's what makes it the perfect symbol of my devotion," Eames says. "It's almost as big as the size of my heart when I think I Arthur."
"Your heart?" She raises an eyebrow. "I thought you were going to say cock."
He turns to her, affronted. "You are the least romantic Frenchwoman I have ever met. Making dirty remarks at a sacred moment such as this."
She shrugs, seeming unperturbed. "I can't imagine Arthur wearing this."
"Can't imagine-" Eames huffs. "But you don't even like Arthur. I'm the one marrying him and I say it's perfect."
"I've known him for two years and all I've ever seen him wear are boring dark suits. Does he own jewelry? Cufflinks? A watch?"
"Of course he owns-cufflinks," Eames says, a flutter of doubt appearing. Now that he pauses to think about it, he can't recall the last time he saw Arthur wear a piece of jewelry other than a watch. Said watch being the one Eames bought for him last year. "I don't know why I brought you. You don't understand Arthur's taste at all."
Mal shrugs again. "I don't know why you brought me either."
* * * * *
There's only one thing to do, obviously: return to the ring shop with the person who knows Arthur best.
"Which one are you-" Una stops as soon as Eames points, and then begins to cackle. "That's-yes-that's absolutely perfect. You should most definitely buy that and give it to Arthur."
"I knew it!" Eames declares, triumphant. That feeling fades as minutes pass and her laughter shows no sign of ceasing. "Una?"
"I need to be there when you present it to him." She's doubled over, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "I can imagine his face now."
Eames frowns. "You are not as nice a person as I was led to believe."
Una's still too busy laughing to reply.
* * * * *
Of course, the matter resolves itself the very next day.
"I've picked out the ring I want to wear," Arthur announces, calling Eames over to the laptop and pointing to a photo online.
"It's quite tasteful," Eames replies, crestfallen. "Wouldn't you prefer a ring with a stone enormous enough to be seen from space?"
"I appreciate the sentiment, but this needs to be something I can wear to work without blinding my clients," Arthur replies, dryly. "Now, if I use my Amex I can get free shipping-"
"You are not going to pay for your own ring," Eames says, scandalized. "What sort of fiancé do you think I am?"
"I've already got it in my shopping cart and-"
"This is where I put my foot down, Arthur. My electronic foot. Don't make me close this window, scrub your cookies, and erase your browsing history."
"I only know what three of those words mean in this context," Arthur says, and raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, fine, you win. You can pay for my ring."
"Are you certain you don't want a gemstone so large it's been named?" Eames tries again. "Because I have a few beautiful pieces in mind that-"
"Babe," Arthur interrupts, bringing Eames' ring finger to his lips and kissing the engagement band that sits there. "If you want a big rock, I can buy the biggest for you to wear. But this one online is all I want for me."
"But I…" Eames looks down and shuffles his feet, feeling once more like a boy proffering a clumsily picked bouquet of wildflowers to his first crush. "I want you to see how much I love you."
"I know how much you love me because you show me every day." Arthur stands to kiss Eames gently on the lips. "I don't need a ring to tell me that."
"What if it's remarkably sparkly?"
Arthur smiles, more dazzling than any diamond could ever be. "Even if it's remarkably sparkly. If you want one--"
"I'm utterly mad over the ring you gave me." Which is true. Eames rests his forehead against Arthur's. "Must you continue to resist my efforts to adorn you in brightly colored silks and shiny baubles?"
Arthur chuckles, a deep, reassuring rumble. "How about this: on our next anniversary, I'll wear whatever you pick out. Anything you buy me, I'll put on."
"Darling, I'm going to hold you to that," Eames murmurs, mind already whirling with visions of the incredible food he's going to present to Arthur. How heartstoppingly handsome he'll be when he looks across the table and smiles.
fin
Poll Fic: Moderately Sparkly