ten_of_swords | (no subject)

(no subject)

They'd been out on the strip most of the evening.

Dinner (so much food!), dancing, walking and talking, even a show at the MGM Grand.

Now, with his hand resting on her lower back, Ruin escorts Mary Anne into the lobby of Caesar's Palace. The casino was in full swing as midnight approached, and he kisses her shoulder.

"Ready to test our luck, Legs?" he asks, breath hot against her skin.

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"No, no, s'not not saying no."

She runs a hand through her hair, trying to figure out how to explain this one. Tequila helps.

"'M just...'m scared, is all."

Tequila always helps.

"Why?"

"B'cause..."

She frowns, then gets down off her barstool. This takes some effort, but she wants to be closer. She wraps her arms around him from behind and hides her face in his shoulder.

"Don' want things to change. An' they'll change. Don' wanna get hurt. Don' wanna get left. Want you to stay, an' if we do something says you have to...'m scared."

He turns to her, managing -- somehow -- to cup her face between his hands.

"Not leavin'. Ring or no ring, not leavin'."

Hell, he hadn't left Coira. She'd left him.

Ruin didn't leave what he loved, which would explain why he knows how his son's life turned out, knows all his descendants, and why Reue has stayed by his side despite his statements that he didn't love or want her.

"Good," she says, nodding once.

"S'alright, then. So long as you don't leave."

It's not that she couldn't--wouldn't--chase him; she can and would. It's that knowledge that somebody else she loved had picked the door over her. She's not sure how well she'd handle that and doesn't want to find out.

He grins.

"So..."

If he were sober, this conversation would not be occuring.

"Wan' get married?"

The 'if they were sober' clause goes without saying.

There's one more moment of hesitation before she smiles back and kisses him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

He slides off the stool and, holding her hand tight, pulls her toward the front door of the hotel. He asks the doorman to call for a limo and while they wait, he kisses her repeatedly.

She slips her free arm around his waist.

"So's this mean I gotta start bein' all mon...mono...monono...jus' sleeping with you now?"

He drunkenly nuzzles her neck.

"Do ya thin' either o' us coul' do that?"

She lets her head loll to the side, giving the matter due thought.

"S'pose we coul' try. If'n ya want to."

She does not make any predictions about their success rate, though.

The limo arrives and Ruin informs their driver they want to get married.

Now.

Then helps his drunked bride-to-be into the back of the limo.

"Wha' about bus'ness?"

Once he gets in, she curls up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Wha' bou' it? You mean like...fuckin in th'line of duty?"

He chuckles.

"I 'ad to wit Gorlim," he points out. Then he taps on the driver's shoulder. "We need rings!"

The driver assures them he knows of a store they can stop at before heading to the chapel of choice in the city of neon lights.

"Well, yeah. S'what I meant. What about it, though?"

Rings. Yes. Knew she forgot something.

"Thank you!" she calls to the driver before turning back to Ruin.

"Y'smart. Remembering stuff." All that booze is enough to make a girl sleepy. Plus, Ruin is warm; she snuggles a little closer against him.

"Gotta do it right," he murmurs, holding her against him. "Does fuckin' to do our job count as infi...infi... as cheatin'? Breakin' vows and the such."

The driver points out that there will be a stop between the jewelry store and the chapel for the marriage lisence.

"I thin' we got lucky wit this diver," he sighs, blissfully intoxicated.

"Don' think it should. I mean...s'our job. I don' care. D'you care?"

She nods. "I think he's done this b'fore--have you done this before?"

The driver replies that he has indeed done this a time or two; impromptu weddings are strangely common here.

"Oh, tha's good. Thank you 'gain!" She settls back against Ruin and closes her eyes.

"I don' care," he informs her, because he doesn't.

They stop outside a very nice jewelry store and the driver tells them that there are many styles to choose from. He helps them both out and promises to wait for them to complete their purchases.

Ruin escorts her into the store, arm tight around her waist.

"Pick ou' whatever you thin' is perfect for us."

"Oh Go'...I hafta pick?"

This is a rather large decision to leave up to someone so intoxicated.

Of course, so is marriage.

"I jus'...dunno, lemme look."

They wander around the store for a moment before she stops in front of a particular case. She presses her palm against the glass.

"These," she says.

"These are perfect."

He kisses her deeply.

"They are."

Ruin somehow manages their transaction: the purchasing of the rings (in their sizes, luckily), the signing of his credit card receipt, and walking them from the store back to the limo.

"Off t' get the cer... the certif... the thing tha' says we c'n get married!" he whoops as the door closes and they snuggle close together again.

She giggles.

"You are soooo drunk."

Pot, kettle--I pronounce you man and wife.

"'m not!"

He tickles her playfully.

"No more th'n you!"

"Ya huh!"

She yelps and falls off of the seat, to end up sprawled on the floor of the limo--mostly on Ruin's feet.

"Oops."

And then the giggling resumes.

He hefts her up, though she ends up mostly in his lap, not in the seat beside him. Ruin doesn't mind all that much, running his hands along her back while suckling at her neck.

"'So... lovely..." he whispers against her skin.

"Mhm?"

She tries to lift her head--momentarily unsure if 'lovely' was meant to be an adjective or a nickname--then gives up because his mouth on her neck feels rather nice. She leans against him instead.

"Mhm. An' yours."