Walking on Thin Ice: Chapter 24

The more business-like the kiss got, the more Mike began to lose his grip on reality and he actually felt an impulse reach out and take hold of his mind, the words that had been unspeakable before echoing in his head. You want her, they said, and he had to shake them away before she kissed him again, before they got louder. Finally she pulled away and he sighed in relief, a silent body checklist going through him, making sure nothing had gone missing during his momentary distraction. Pants still on, that was a good sign. He almost laughed at his own stupidity, but Gemma was on him again, and he lost all that was holding him together. She didn't try to fend him off in any way, either, and he felt like he was spiraling out of control as his right hand disappeared up the front of her shirt. As he felt his skin touch hers, his heart began to rampage his other organs, pounding against his ribs mercilessly. A few seconds later she pulled away and bit her lip.

"I'll be right back," she insisted and stood, taking off at a sprint. He sat up and tugged his hair, now doing a checklist, finding it a negative. Something had gone terribly amiss in his nether areas, and he was suddenly grateful she'd disappeared for the time being. He jumped up and ran to the bathroom, splashing cool water on his face to clear his head.

He saw his own disheveled reflection in the mirror and grimaced. "Pull yourself together man!" He shouted and turned away, searching for a shirt. Summer weather meant heat, which meant no shirt. Now he wanted to layer up under heaps of sweaters and jeans, just hoping she hadn't run off for any reason close to that. Embarrassment was ringing through him horrifically, and he hardly looked up when she entered the house again. She pulled him into a hug, which he tried to escape, but found he was in control this time, and relented.

"Come here, then, you deserve this." She smiled and pulled his hand to the door. He stood in a t-shirt and jeans, wondering just what it was she had to leave outside. The door swung open and his jaw unhinged.

"You bought the Corvette." He said in a flat tone, and then his heart skipped a beat. "You bought the Corvette!" He turned and grabbed her hands. "I LOVE YOU!" He shouted and felt her drop the keys into his hands. He tugged her into a tight hug and heard himself squeak again, surprise, happiness, contentment, the whole thing. She tried to lead him out to the car but he stopped her on the porch, a business-like kiss of his own working her over. She squeaked and felt her back touch the side of her house. Slowly she slid down the side, and before she could move again, he had pushed her flat to the concrete and was hovering over her, quick, passionate little kisses playing over her. He held her shoulders tight in his arms, and she could hardly move in the grip.

A vague thought entered her mind. His friends were supposed to show up around noon to pick him up for the rest of the day. She had agreed that they could take him out to get as drunk as they pleased if she could only have him for half the day. They agreed and now her clock chimed noon. She was about to warn him that any second his mates were going to drive up and see him ravaging her on the porch, but he pulled away and muttered that he could give a rat's ass if they saw him kissing a dog at that point, to which Boxer responded with a lick to his cheek.

Eric glanced out the window of his car before elbowing Terry. "Check that out. Nice car, eh?"

"Yeah, what's it doing in front of Gemma's place? She hire him some expensive strippers, what's going on?" He frowned, but they cleared the hedges and plainly saw him snogging right there in plain view.

Eric's jaw dropped. "No way! She bought him a goddamn car! No fair!"

Terry honked, but they didn't move a muscle, other than their tongues.

Gemma forced him off her for a split second. "I told you that you'd get every stupid penny back didn't I?"

He laughed. "I love you,"

She smiled. "I love you too. I bought you a car, dumbass."

Mike whooped for a second before lowering his face to hers.

As Eric and Terry started up the sidewalk, Mike pulled away and stood up. "CHECK OUT MY CAR! MIIIINE!" He pointed to himself and jumped the steps, leaving Gemma to get herself up off the concrete, her back aching a bit. She stood and made to exit gracefully, but Mike leapt to her side and grabbed her hand.

"Come on, Love-" He begged, eyes pitiful.

"Come on what? You've got keys, you're not naked, and your friends are here! It's noon, I'm supposed to disappear!"

He leaned forward and kissed her, reluctance on his face. "Love you, bye." He said quickly and ducked away, not paying attention as Eric lifted his eyebrows to Gemma with a smile. She lifted hers back and winked before hauling Boxer inside by his collar and closing the door.

"Men and cars, it's almost funny." She told Zilla before curling up with a book for the rest of the day.

Later that night, about one o' clock, just as Gemma was drifting off to sleep, she heard soft voices and the door shut with another little exclamation of celebration.

Mike stumbled into her room and cursed, kicking Boxer back with a weak groan. He blinked a few times and pulled his shoes off, not noticing she had sat up and was staring at him.

"On a scale of one to ten," she began and he jumped in surprise, "how drunk are you? Ten being the worst."

He shrugged. "Six? Seven maybe."

Shrugging without any real reason, Gemma flopped back into the sheets and felt him lay next to her. He covered his eyes with his hands and groaned again, knowing what a headache he was going to have.

"Terry dropped me off, I didn't drive." He informed her.

"Good," she replied sleepily.

He sat up suddenly and reached into his coat pocket for a cigarette. "Be back in a few," he muttered and made to leave. Walking through the door he stood on the front porch gazing at his car with a small grin, waiting for colors to play across his vision. Gemma appeared at his side all of the sudden and snatched the cigarette from his hand. She put it out with her sandaled foot and impatiently tugged him inside.

"Going to kill yourself, honestly." She muttered and led him to the bed. "Please tell me you just started-"

He shook his head. "No, I-ooh, my head-started a few years ago. I'm not a big smoker though. And I'm not gunna diiie-"

"Let's talk about this when you're sane, hm?" She spat, and took the remainder of the pack from his coat pocket, cruching them in her first. He started to object when another stab of pain struck his head and he leaned back into the pillows. He began to curse quietly, but the pain had increased substantially. He punched the wall and cursed again, feeling very angry for a split-second. He normally wasn't so flippant about his anger, but right now, he hated to admit it, he wanted a cigarette and he didn't want anyone telling him he couldn't. What was Gemma's problem? She was staring back at him with a worried rabbit's _expression, fingers wound around another, her dogtags hanging over her pajama top. She backed from the room and Mike felt his throat close around one last "fuck" before he passed out.

He awoke the next morning alone, and he knew Gemma wasn't awake at seven on a Sunday. He stood and took some Aspirin before walking downstairs, a pang of guilt when he saw her curled up in the sofa-couch, Boxer on her feet, Zilla on her head. She shifted, sneezed, and rolled over.

"Gemma," he whispered and shook her shoulders. She slapped blindly until she got a good one on his head.

"Go away," she moaned and pulled her cat tighter to her head, awakening the animal rudely.

"I'll quit, right now!" He moaned and realized with a sudden thought that she had him whipped beyond belief.

"I'll quit drinking, smoking, whatever you want!" He heard himself say, and she sat up, a tear on her cheek.

"Don't you ever do that again!" She shook a finger at him and he knew that he'd probably frightened her a bit the night before, appearing out of nowhere, smashed and suddenly full of bad habits and language.

He put his head down. "I'm sorry,"

She hugged him and sighed uneasily. "Thanks,"

He sighed. "I sure do know how to ruin a good thing."

"You couldn't ruin what we have, though. That's what's so great about it."

He smiled. "Love you,"

She smiled back. "Love you back."

The next month skipped by in a heartbeat, and before Mike could even rationalize his actions, he was turning down drink offers, guilty as hell for the two weeks following his birthday. Gemma's birthday was approaching, and they were starting to talk about a trip around the time. He walked inside and smiled as Boxer jumped up and licked his face in pure happiness while Zilla purred and ran her side along his leg. He bent and scratched her ear, settling down for the next half hour before she showed up. It was all about her suddenly, what she did, how she reacted, what she said. He wanted to see her again, and pretty damn quick if he could have a choice. The minutes dragged by, but she finally walked in and dropped her back to the floor as always, slipping her shoes off as Boxer licked her hands and face. She walked up the steps and immediately fell onto Mike's lap.

"Hey, Baby," she teased and he smiled weakly, looking at her face.

"Hey," he felt nervous for no reason at all, and before he could stop himself, added, "what's next?"

She frowned. "What do you mean, 'what's next?'"

"What do we do next? We've gone from meeting, to dating, to living together. What's next for us? Is there another step? Can I stop shaking like a goddamn leaf?" He asked, voice taking on a tremor about half way in.

She smiled nervously at him. "I'll do whatever you want me too, Michael. I love you; I'd follow you to the ends of the earth and back if you so wanted me to."

Without being aware of it, Mike made his decision. He hadn't even been aware a decision needed making, but he had made it nonetheless, and the next editing day he was allowed, he planned to take advantage of.

That was Monday, her birthday was on the following Monday, and the next "free-day" he had was on Thursday. He cursed mentally but endured the week.

Tuesday passed him by slowly, aggrivatingly. He was forced to dress as the Queen at the Beeb, and then when he got home, Gemma had skipped out for a night on the town with Meredith. She had left him something to eat, and apologized, but he still was a bit irked she had just up and left early. He supposed he could have done what he wanted to do on Tuesday, but he still didn't know exactly what he was planning on doing, which frightened him a bit.

Wednesday was spent at a small dock just outside London, then at a small dam, where Mike had the pleasure of slapping John with two small fishes until he produced a large, inflated fish, and smacked him into the water below. Once dry and not provided with small fishes for slapping John with, his fun ended and he found himself depressed. Terry noticed, but said nothing; he could tell Mike was trying to sort things out and guessed something bad had happened with him and Gemma. He was wrong, but Mike didn't know enough to correct him. When he got home, Gemma was already there, her hair up in a towel, a small strand hanging down by her chin. He had been ecstatic to have her to himself, and they had spent most of the evening kissing on the couch, which prepared him fully for the day of thinking ahead.

Thursday morning came up with surprising force. Gemma had already disappeared, and he suddenly knew why he had been nervous and touchy all week.

"I'm going to ask her to marry me," he announced to the empty room, and Boxer panted before jumping onto his lap. He rubbed Boxer's snout. "I've been waiting for a day to go shopping for a ring. Why didn't my mind tell me this before, huh?"

He was acutely aware how nervous he was through his sarcasm, and stood to dress. He reluctantly fastened a collar on Boxer and walked out to his beautiful new car, letting the animal sit on the seat with even more reluctance. He was shedding, but that was easily vacuumed away. The important thing was he had moral support, and no one would look at him and tease him with their eyes; no one knew him in town. It was a big town.

Finding himself standing outside a jewelry shop, he closed his eyes and wanted to scream out loud. He had tied Boxer inside the car and was now walking inside to his doom. Oh the HUMANITY, he thought to himself, and then walked inside.

Inside there were a few other men, a couple of women squealing in delight at the ring showcase, and a few employees peddling their most expensive goods to the less informed. Mike let out a small sigh and stepped behind the two squealing women, trying to get a look in edge-wise.

"Wow, Olivia, that is a great one. You don't really think he'll do it, do you?" Another excited voice asked her.

Mike squinted an eye. Olivia? Oh, shit, wasn't that one of Gemma's little friends? He jumped back slowly and turned around completely. How many of them could identify him in a line-up? A snicker actually sneaked out of him and before he could clap a hand over his mouth, the two girls turned around and looked at him from behind.

The other one, Trina, squinted at him. "Isn't that one on TV?"

He groaned mentally. They recognized him AND they were American.

Olivia gasped. "Oh my gosh! Didn't Gemma say she was dating one of them! Which one is it?" She whispered, and they tried to walk around the front of him, but he continued to slowly turn until they abruptly split into two and came around two different sides of him, standing with folded arms as he looked up in horror.

"Hello?" He asked with a bemused look, trying to pretend like he got this all the time.

They faltered suddenly, and then Olivia's smile was smug. "You have a dog named Boxer and you're dating my friend Gemma. What brings you to a jewelry store?"

He let his hands drop to his sides further, all hope lost. "I ducked in here to avoid a mob of screaming girls." He lied, knowing they'd see right through it. "Apparently I'm some sort of Paul McCartney." He added, hoping they'd see he was joking, but they only looked at him like they were about to say, "Oh, right. I believe that."

"So you'll be leaving now, won't you?" She asked and tipped her head to the side.

The other one smacked Olivia. "Duh! He's looking for a ring, Olivia! How dumb do you get?!"

He dropped to both knees. "Please say nothing to Gemma if you see her, I know how you women gossip, and I swear to God if she hears breath of this I'll just DIE! I don't even know what I'm doing here!" He sounded very pitiful, and Olivia was tempted to collapse to her own knees, blonde hair flowing, and just kiss him. She resisted and made a face.

"What is it with men and needing all this secrecy? She'd be so ecstatic if we told her-"

He made a choking gesture. "No no no! You don't understand! Men don't like anyone to know anything because we don't like people knowing that much about us. If I was to go around telling people that I was in love and was trying to get married, I be put away for sure. We just don't do that sort of thing, alright?"

Trina dopped her hands to her sides. "Alright, we'll keep quiet! Now, want some help finding that perfect rock?"

He stood and put his hands in his pockets, noticing a female clerk was staring at them bemusedly. "Uh, sure."

The three of them stepped towards the case.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God-" He continued to repeat the same phrase over again, gradually increasing in volume until Zilla lowered her ears to her head and hissed. Mike ignored her and flicked open the box again, glancing at the object inside. "WHY?!" He shouted above to the heavens, not knowing particularly why he had yelled that. Finally he snapped the box shut and walked to the bedroom, dropping it calmly into one of the many drawers, tossing a few articles of clothing over it unceremoniously.

He turned and walked into the kitchen, feeling more at ease as he put more distance between himself and his ultimate downfall. There hadn't been much thought about Helen until he was standing in the store, and then he'd only found himself thinking how great his run had been with her, and then he heard his mind distinctly start chattering away about all the good times ahead, if he could get over the goddamn past...

Gemma walked inside and dropped her bag to the floor, letting out an animalistic wail. Mike bolted to her side, face knit up in confusion. Flashing him an amused grin, she said, "I have two weeks off starting Monday. What shall we do?"

He lifted a hand to his chin. "Well, the season officially ends on Sunday, which gives me a month to rest up and restore the creative juices. What should we do?"

With a mischievous grin, Gemma hugged him around the neck, kissing his mouth every few seconds. "We should take a trip."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah, the week after my birthday we should go on a trip and hang out for two weeks, water-ski, tubing, swimming-"

"Where would this be?" He asked and carried her up the steps to her couch.

"My parents' cottage, or somewhere where we could be alone, I suppose." She teased.

His heart hadn't ever really stopped beating hard, but now it was hitting dangerously high levels, and he felt like the room was getting smaller. Gemma gave him a slight worried look as his wide-eyed _expression went from simply curious to nervous in a split second. If Thursday night was coming to a close, when the hell did he plan to ask her? There was a moment of pause in his thoughts before his mind responded, her birthday of course. At ease again, he kissed her and waited for the uneasiness to pass again.

The next few days crawled by, as things will when you look forward to something in the future, but it was agony for Mike, who was sitting in the BBC building, hands clasped over his aching stomach, wondering if he really was looking forward to, or dreading that Monday. He was either looking forward to claiming her as his own legally, or dreading her discovering he really cared and Gemma stepping all over him, which he refused to believe she'd do. As men have problems talking to each other about things as sensitive as emotions, they all sort of watched him suffer in silence, and since he hadn't mentioned Gemma in the past few days, they assumed they were in a row, or he was still guilty about the whole drunken-smoking incident.

"Alright?" Terry asked and handed him a mug of tea. Mike took it and nodded, thanking him with a nervous sigh. Years of stress were being taken off his life at that point. A new thought interrupted his mind. He hadn't known Gemma an entire year yet! What the hell was he thinking? He started to fret again, but he knew that his parents had known each other three months when they got married, and they hadn't killed each other yet. He'd known Helen for nearly five years and she was dead. Grimly he shook this image from his mind and focused on the present. Yes, he knew he'd take care of Gemma and he wasn't making a mistake; still he shook and was beyond nervous.

Saturday was spent on the beach in the sunny weather over by Gemma's parents' cottage. They had gone up to scope the area, to see if that's where their vacation would be spent, and they decided it was nice, but it was crawling with reproach. Her father, her brothers and their girlfriends-Doug proposed to his out of the blue that night they were there. A marriage was approaching the family that September, they had decided, and Mike could only stare on in amazement as Doug fearlessly repeated those three little words to his girl over and over again, before the entire family, and it seemed only that could win their respect.

That night Mike actually lost sleep. He opened the door about three o' clock when he still hadn't drifted off and let Boxer in, waiting patiently for the combined efforts of staying awake and keeping Boxer from climbing on the bed to set in and put him out like a light. The sun started peeking up over the edge of the window sill, and a few minutes later Gemma smacked at the alarm clock, yawning and stretching as she woke up. She was about to climb out of the bed as quietly as possible, but Mike was stirring. She frowned and leaned over his shoulders.

"Did I wake you up?" She asked quietly, and he shook his head, sitting up suddenly.

He yawned. "I didn't get to sleep at all-"

Gemma clucked her tongue. "Aw, I'm sorry. Here, let me help." She pulled him down onto her with a jerk, and he felt a sinking tiredness envelope him. The smell of her was so comforting, and the feel of her hands running up and down his back made his eyes finally drop shut and his breaths come out in and out evenly. She was humming quietly above him, and within three minutes of his body colliding with hers, he was asleep. Gemma carefully slid from under him, replacing her body with a pillow, and he curled around it sleepily, grunting in disapproval as the thing tried to smother him. She dressed even quieter than normal, and left without eating, unable to wipe the smile off her face only he could put there.

As she and the other girls stood around the court, slapping high-fives, and catcalling the opposing team, Gemma still could not force her game face on. She felt ditzy and out of it, waiting for something to happen. Around noon the men showed up with their basketball posse, and challenged them to a game. Gemma retaliated saying they got their asses whipped every day; it was the women's turn to win. So they played volleyball, and the men lost eighteen to one. Gemma was too hot to stay in the gym another minute, so she and Meredith gathered the other ladies and they walked outside to the outdoor pool, where there were some frog-like people paddling through the serious pool, and several children and tired mothers splashing about the other one. Gemma changed into her swimsuit-a more conservative one than she normally would have worn-and helped herself to the water, floating around the deep end before a vicious game of water volleyball started.

About four o' clock when Gemma was leaving, she saw a shadow fall across her arm as she climbed out of the pool. Glancing up she saw Mike, smile on his face despite the tired look on his face. She stood and wrapped the towel around her, wondering just why he had showed up.

"What brings you here, Mike?" Olivia asked, fiddling with the straps on her bikini. He glanced at her and smiled weakly, but returned his eyes to Gemma.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you want a hug; I'm soakin-" He pulled her into a hug anyway, and she felt herself soaking into his dry clothes. The girls all let out enormous cooing noises, laughing at their togetherness. When Gemma pulled away she noticed a few wet splotches on his shirt, but he didn't seem to care at all as he threw an arm around her waist and walked with her back to the changing rooms, not noticing the guys that had been hanging with Gemma and her friends for her entire gym-life were staring at him while Greg cast a pathetic look to his feet.

"I knew it," he mumbled and tossed a look to Mike, who hadn't said a word.

Gemma changed back into her normal clothes and quickly braided her hair into one braid on the back of her head before walking back out to greet Michael again. Olivia was giving her little looks, not of jealousy, of just plain adoration and slight envy. Gemma smiled once again to herself before walking out and smiling to her boyfriend.

Gemma couldn't find his car anywhere in the parking lot and realized he must have walked the seven blocks there, a good ten minute walk. They climbed into the car together.

"You sleep well this time?" Gemma asked, starting the ignition.

He nodded. "Out like a light. That was amazing, by the way." He grinned at her.

Unable to keep the childish snicker from taking her over, Gemma giggled. Mike gave her a slightly bemused look before a grin covered his face.

"Yes," was all he said, and they both burst into laughter.

Sunday was the single worst day of Michael's life, conservatively speaking. He hadn't woken up until three thirty that afternoon, and Gemma had gone somewhere again. Until ten thirty that night, when Scott dropped her off, he was sitting alone in the house with two animals for companions, irritable. He avoided the phone, letting it ring twenty times to take messages. For whatever reason he felt like curling up on the floor and hoping Gemma walked in and found him like that. He wanted her to be worried sick about him when she got home. For a second he wondered if that's why Boxer curled up on the floor in the living room, because even though he wanted Gemma to feel rotten for leaving him alone all day, he knew the second he saw her (or smelled her for that matter) he'd be so happy to see her he'd forget all about his resentment and have to lick her face-or kiss. Whichever fit the best. He was able to catch four hours sleep that night, until Zilla attempted to assassinate him in his sleep when she curled up on his head. From that moment on he could only stare at the side of his dresser and think to himself, in that bottom drawer there is a box, and in that box is my DOOM. Dread really did well up inside him, and as Gemma stirred in his arms, he squirmed uncomfortably. The tiny movement on his part awakened her, and she yawned as her eyes fluttered open in the dark.

She gave him a strange look. "Not asleep yet?"

He kissed the side of her head and shook his own. "Not yet. I was for a bit, but-"

She moved and sat up. "Ancient trick. Called a massage, ever heard of it?" She asked and hefted him to his stomach so his shoulders poked up from the sheets. He snickered and tried to answer, but her strong fingers had started kneading into his back, and all stress and tension melted away. Knuckles and bones ground together until every knot of pain that he had been unable to stretch away in the waking hours was eradicated. He wanted to groan aloud to help get rid of all the tension in his head, but the second his lips open to let the air out, he was mouthing things to himself, things he'd rather keep inside for the time being. He'd already said more than he planned.

"My turn," she joked, and collapsed to her stomach before him. He started to sit up, but she shoved him down with a smile and a bit of help from her arms. With a small, grateful smile, he swept her into his arms again, and waited for sleep to come. Just as he was sure his body was ready to fall head over heels into Dreamland, she said it.

"Love you, Michael."

"Love you, Gemma." He murmured in return, and felt her hand slip into his. Now he was awake again, damnit!

Eyes focused on his dresser drawer, knots back all over his shoulders. He waited until the deep sleep overtook her before squirming again, and this time he slipped out of the bed and walked up to the attic, climbing out through the window. Sitting on the roof gave him no satisfaction, especially when he noticed it was a clear night with no moon. He gazed at the stars mechanically, afraid that if he put his head down he'd have to face reality again. It was so hard to think that sometime the next morning, when it was her day, HER day, he'd ask her. Even though he'd never been more sure about anything in his life, he had never been so unsure about it either. He was sure about his half, but what about her half? Say being teased with the idea of marriage the last time had stunted her ability to trust and believe he could pull through? Vaguely he thought about what he'd do on their wedding day, if there was one. Nothing fancy, he mused. And if I could get away with it, he continued, Angela would be miles away, unknowing, not there to prattle on about how cute we are. Damn women, damn them all.

With a final, angry thought, Michael crept back down the attic steps and eased into the bed, sleep finally stealing him away until six o' clock that morning, when he could sleep no more, bags under his eyes, but rested enough. Gemma had moved her leg and accidentally kicked Boxer, who slipped off the bed without waking, landing on a pile of clean clothes, tainting them with black hair he was sure. After about twenty minutes of sitting and staring at the indent where the dog had been, Mike turned and leaned over Gemma carefully, opening the bottom drawer. He pulled the box from under the few articles of clothing he'd tossed over it, horror for the first few seconds as he failed to find it at first. When the blue velvet box was firmly gripped in his hand, he closed the drawer and eased back into a sleeping position, opening his mouth in surprise as Gemma shifted so she was almost sitting on him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. It was comfortable enough, but now he couldn't see the look on her face. She grunted in disapproval as he tried to move her, and Zilla started to hiss with her as she made a pouty face.

"Wake up," he squeaked, and cleared his throat anxiously.

Gemma shoved the cat from her rat's nest hair to Mike's head, which Zilla clawed at savagely with her declawed paws, batting him until he shoved her to the floor, needing Gemma alone for just one minute. He leaned behind him and opened the door, shooing both animals away, but leaving the door open a crack.

"Wake up," he repeated, and waited until she shifted her eyes open, half-lidded or no.

"Sleepy!" She spat suddenly, and her eyes shut again.

He smiled nervously, his stomach weak. "Happy birthday," he gave her shoulders a squeeze.

Her hand launched into the air, the silent cheer, and then dropped like a stone to her side again, snaking up around his shoulders after a few moments. The silken nightshirt she wore was sliding against his bare chest, and for a moment he felt more like he had no skin than he was half-naked, and was suddenly struck with the urge to layer up under sweaters in the heat again. Just as he started to lean out of the warmth of her body, she opened her eyes again.

"Alright, what you want?" She asked sleepily, eyes blinking now and again to focus the world, so early for her.

Just do it! Wailed Angela's voice in his head, and he felt his hand jump up to her eye level. "Here," came a voice, quite unlike his own.

Gemma stared at the box. For a moment there was a blank spot in her mind, a vague, "what the hell?" before she felt her heart thud and the "what the hell?" was replaced with "please tell me there's a ring in there, please please please!"

Sarcastic Gemma elbowed sensible Gemma in the head and took the microphone. "Oh gee whiz, Mikey! I always wanted a tiny box to keep my dust in-"

He flicked it open and she gasped. "Holy shit!" She cried and sat up, quick as lightning.

White gold with a diamand-shaped diamond, only there was an emerald stationed under the clear-white gem, and the deep green color shone through the other gem. Before she could absorb this all, she noticed the tiny emeralds surrounding the diamond, and felt her jaw further drop.

Now it was his turn to be sarcastic. "This is a 'wake-you-up' ring, I hope you like it."

Gemma hugged him tight, unable to speak, and then in a soft voice, she responded, "I love it."

He swallowed his pride at last. "Will you marry me?"

She laughed. "Yes!"

The knot in his stomach had tightened to unbearable pain, and with that one word, almost as powerful as the three she whispered to him now and again, he felt the knot break and he smothered her with affection after slipping the ring on her finger.

Suddenly Gemma's shoulders were shaking and Mike was instantly horrified. He started to pull away when she flopped to her back and he saw her face red, shining with tears. He started to ask her if she was alright, if he'd gone too fast, if he'd done something to upset her, when a smile poked out from her sad face and he saw the light in her eyes dance before him. She was whole again.

"My family is going to absolutely die!" She laughed, wiping the last of the tears away.

Mike laughed. "I was thinking we shouldn't invite Angela, actually."

Gemma's face lit up. "We're going away for two weeks!"

"So? They'll come if we tell them-" He froze, mid-sentence.

"So we don't tell them where we're going! We go on vacation and casually come back a married couple. We'll elope, so to speak. I don't know what you think of that, but it's an idea."

He grinned. "I love it!"

Angela made a face. "You're going to Vermont in June? Why?"

Mike shrugged. "Mountains are snowy all year, and I need to brush up my skiing. Besides, we're planning on going to Lake Huron on the Michiganian shore for about a week for summer stuff. Now, can I have the tickets back?" He held his hand out.

She made another face, but handed the two round-trip tickets back to her brother and folded her arms.

Gemma poked her head into the room as she slipped her engagement ring into her pocket. "Hi Angie,"

She smiled. "Hi Gemma,"

Gemma threw a glance at Mike, as if asking him if it was alright to say something. He gave her a confused look before Angie smiled at her.

"He said it yet?"

Mike cleared his throat importantly. "I love you, Gemma Thompson."

Angela gasped and Gemma smiled wickedly as she stepped fully into the room, nothing special. She walked to him and hugged him around the neck, returning the favor and feeling for an instant like she wasn't going to be able to keep her secret a secret. Only one more day of work, and then poof! Married, gone, honeymoon-Christ! She felt his arms around her, strong and gentle at the same time. She could hardly wait.

The inevitable coo escaped Angela's lips, and Mike could hardly wait to slap her as he shifted away from Gemma, a threatening hand raised. His pregnant sister had never moved quite that fast, and ducked under his arm, versatile and graceful.

"Go on! Hit me!" She dared, and he remembered times when they were children, wrestling on the carpet until one called it quits and searched for a way to cover the welts they had suffered under the other. The fights were always playful, and never started after or during an argument. If there was any time they started, it was now, when they annoyed each other.

Mike flicked her in the nose and felt his own knee buckle. Gemma stared on, horrified as he batted at Angela, teeth and claws sprouting from nowhere at all. They clawed and batted carefully for a while, until Angela took a regal throne on his stomach, holding both hands over his head. He pouted a lip.

"Kick you and I might just screw-"

"Quiet, sir knight, surrender your honor!" She cried above him, holding a pointed finger to his side. Slowly Gemma watched his shirt start sinking down, shrinking away from her extended finger easily, his eyes focused too hard on the appendage.

"No, Angie!" He squirmed violently and then he turned his face away, biting his lip hard for an instant. A surprisingly soft poke to his stomach was initiated and he laughed loudly, blood touching his tongue as the surprise caused him to bite down harder. For a while she only held his weak arms behind him while she tried to throw her off, but in a moment of rest he threw himself at her and she was left, defeated this time.

He glared accusingly at Gemma. "Thanks for helping-"

She folded her arms. "Revenge is sweet."

A sudden whiplash in his arm wrapped her own arms around herself, and he was left with his hands holding hers against her sides, wrapped around her stomach tightly, protecting herself. Just as he was about to relent, he noticed she was easing her head to her shoulder protectively, and he felt a smile tug at him.

"Huh, I guess I'll have to give up." He started to loosen his grip on her, but when he saw her head start inching up, dug his face into the crack between shoulder and head. She screamed an unearthly sound, falling to her knees instantly as he attacked her sensitive spot. In the rush he'd dropped her arms, and she was now attacking him right back, slaps and pokes all mingling together into half-hearted punches, and then the tickling stopped and they were completely unaware Angela was there, fighting a smile as they kissed.

Gemma felt tired. She had felt tired earlier, when he'd woken her up at six thirty to say that he'd finally gotten the tickets all set. She had called ahead of time to warn Joe and Martha they were coming, but left all word of marriage out, hoping it would be a surprise when they arrived, hoping they'd be legal witnesses and be happy to see them together, but it was all circumstantial. The whole trip was a honeymoon in itself, and yet they had gone and purposely found a small summer town called Harrisville just north of Tawas City in Michigan, there through the fourth of July, which was a huge fireworks display to them, out-of-towners. Things were starting to look better as Angela left, still unaware, and Gemma couldn't help but slip her ring back on her finger and hold it out for Mike to see.

"Remind me again why it took us three months to tongue-kiss, seven to say we loved each other, and still only eight to be engaged. I mean, we took our sweet time for the most part, but man we just couldn't wait to hack out the jewelry." She smiled as he cast her a bemused look.

He cleared his throat again. "Remind me why you bought me a brand new car, and I'll explain."

"I love you!" She retorted as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

He smiled. "There's your bloody reason."

"Cliché time," Gemma announced, and sat up straighter. "Tomorrow is the beginning of the rest of our lives."

"Amen and hallelujah." Mike said solemnly, and hugged her tight again.