Chapter Text
Quick Deflections for When Someone Asks The Question
“Let’s get married.”
If Don wasn’t busy trying to remember what he had learned from his cooking classes, maybe he’d have burned himself with the waffle maker. But Don certainly heard something, he just wasn’t sure if it was praise or sass for his waffles.
“I’m sorry?”
Sloan was quick to answer. “Nothing.” She goes on to take another bite of the waffle, already swimming in syrup and butter. Don breaks into a smile, pleased that the pricey cooking classes paid off.
Don wasn’t the kind of man who would go through extra lengths to impress a lady. However, Sloan wasn’t just some lady - she was this brilliant, extraordinary person who is better than him in every possible way he could think of.
Except waffle-making - he thought - hey had to somehow be better at something, and he was currently killing it with the waffles.
Truth be told, he was still afraid. Sloan did not just date men of average lives. Yes, they were in a relationship, crossing various lines while they were dating. But then you’d hear or read something and you’re back to where you were before - doubting yourself and counting the days until Sloan would move on, or punch you in the face telling you she has moved on.
Maybe he could casually ask her if she would-
It dawns to him on what he heard.
“What did you say?”
He could have sworn he heard the word “Marry” somewhere in his kitchen. And it didn’t come from him.
Sloan gets another one of the waffles. “Nothing, sweet potato. Nothing. Now, please make some more waffles, you’re already out.”
Don crosses his arms, standing firmly on his feet. “I think I heard a marriage proposal somewhere between the first and second waffle.”
Sloan flips her pony tail to the other shoulder. “You’re hearing things Keefer.”
“What happened to Sweet Potato?”
“I was hungry, and therefore I resorted to food based endearments. And now I’m angry, and I demand actual food.”
Don raised an eyebrow at her, and then moved the waffle mix away. “You asked me to marry you. I think. No, you did, and now you’re hiding behind a waffle… Hill.”
“Used to be a mountain, you weren’t fast enough.”
“Hey, waffle making takes time - if you want to achieve the perfectly brown waffle, you have to wait.”
“Or you can order them.”
“Of course, but it definitely doesn’t have that touch of love from me.”
The pause Sloan had from her end made him consider victory, until she made a face. “Oh God Don.” She pushes away the plate as Don counters with a frantic, “I meant that as a metaphor!”
Sloan snorts out a laugh, “Stop making those waffles,"she tells him. "And come here to eat, I think you’ve made enough.” Don was all too happy to oblige.
He sits across the table from her, helping himself to his own creation. It’s when he finishes the first half that Sloan clears her throat. “It was a proposal brought about by food -”
“I knew it.”
“Which doesn’t count! I was completely overwhelmed by how good this meal is.”
Don raises an eyebrow. “That’s another way you could praise my skills, I guess.”
“Nevertheless. I just want you to know - it’s not really… A joke. If you do have a ring in your pants, get that sucker out and we can get married like Will and Mac.”
Don stopped eating all together, and looked at her. He puts aside his food, and walks all the way to Sloan, kneeling in front of her, tenderly taking her hand.
“Sloan Sabbith,”
The pause could kill anyone else.
“I don’t have a ring in my pocket. Nor do I have one anywhere in this house -”
Sloan manages to land a nice slap on the back of his head.
“However, and please, please don’t hit me this time.
I’d like to be sure. Sure that you really want to be with me. For me. Because I am sure as hell I’m not all those ex-boyfriends of yours - body wise. I mean, brain wise, pretty sure I got that all covered.
I want to be sure to be the right person for you. Because, you - you Sloan Sabbith, are a wonderful person, and you deserve the right one."
Sloan smiled at that, at least now he’s gained her good side. She leans in for a quick kiss, and a pat on his hand. "Stop being sappy, and let's get back to breakfast."
He slides in next to her as she generously gives him one waffle. The eyebrow he raised at her was met with a laugh.
He could get used to this.
—
Let’s get married, she hears him ask.
He sits on the floor, the book now closed. That question was certainly building up for quite some time.
She laughs.
—
“Let’s get married.”
Maggie turns to Jim slowly. He’s looking at her, then at the floor. She can see his face turn into a shade of red.
“Jim, I’m not going to the other side of the world. I’m more or less in the same coast.”
Jim stumbles, but he manages to cross to her side of the bedroom. He picks up one of her slacks, and tries to fold it the way Maggie did.
He fails.
Maggie asks for the offending pair, and Jim gives it up. Maggie just continues on packing her things, with Jim standing there, waiting for an answer.
The thing about just standing there in silence, after asking what one would consider a life changing question - it's bound to annoy one of you.
"Where is this coming from?" she finally asks him, throwing one of her dresses to the bed.
It throws him off, because he honestly thought Maggie had quickly forgotten about it. But there she was, slightly fuming at him.
Jim couldn't help but shrug. "From the heart?"
She closes her eyes, balls up her fists. But even before Jim could remedy the situation, she screams at him, "GET THE HELL OUT!" Maggie pushes him out of her room, slamming the door to his face.
It takes Maggie around five minutes to calm herself. It somehow helps her finish packing, quicker than what she was expecting. She picks up her phone, looking through e-mails, reminders for her trip to DC.
It's not enough. Her frustration seeps through the wall of distraction.
Jim has been like this for weeks leading to this day. A bit moody, he tries to push off any discussion about her move to the DC bureau. She really wanted to talk to him, at least to get some common ground of where they are in this relationship.
But no, he suddenly pops that question, and now she's getting that sense of him not wanting to let go.
"Can men really be that dense?"
"No," the muffled response coming from the other side of the door.
Maggie rolls her eyes, "Go away Jim."
"Can't," he replies. "My bag is in the room."
True enough, it's propped up on the chair next to the desk. She gets the bag, prepared to throw it at him.
Only to see him kneeling on the floor, holding up what looks like, a silver ring.
It makes Maggie drop his bag.
"Let's be clear," Jim starts. "This isn't an engagement ring. It's the promise ring my grandpa gave my grandma during the war."
"Jim-"
"No, I need to tell this story, it could help calm the both of us down. Grandpa gave this ring to grandma because well, the war. He wanted to let her know she isn't alone, that there's a part of him with her always. And it's almost the same reason why I'm giving it to you. Removing the war factor, I want you to know that you're never alone, that I'm just out there cheering you on.
You've always wanted to grow, and I don't want to be the reason for stopping you. That stupid thing I said was just me being afraid of being that reason. And it came out horribly.
So, Margaret Jordan, I hope you accept this ring, not necessarily as a promise to come back to me someday so we can get married. But as a small nudge if you need it."
Maggie could only bury her face in her hands. She brushes away her hair, and reaches for the silver ring, puts it on without ceremony.
"Thank you, Jim."
He answers with a smile.
"Now get up on your feet, you look a bit ridiculous."
"I'm trying," he starts. "But I think my legs are numb."
She grabs his arm as he reaches for his dropped bag, and they both try to make most of the last night the share the same bed.
—
Let’s get married, he had asked.
She looks at him. It was now or never. Or it was an ill timed question.
He waits.
—
Let’s get married, he asks out of the blue.
At least to her. He however, has been prepared for quite some time.
The ring doesn’t come in a box, and it has never left his pocket.
He keeps telling himself, the day will come.
They had love in between them, surely, that would be enough?
But then.
The corners of her eyes crinkle, and she laughs. He had always loved her laugh, one of the things that made that the bleak world seem a little bit brighter.
But why does it feel different this time?
She smiles at him, and leans in to kiss his forehead.
“You’re drunk,”
She stands up, letting her night gown sweep the floor as she heads for the bedroom.
“Go to sleep,” she tells him, as she takes her place in bed.
It's an answer he wasn't expecting.
It wasn't the answer he had hoped for.
He takes time to look around. And it slowly comes to him.
In their love, they were blinded. Blinded by the truths that will always exist between them.
Or had she always seen it?
Is this why she laughed?
They were simply of two different worlds. She knew it well, that he could never be in her world.
It was an answer he should have expected.
His eyes go to the sight of the untouched glass.
Perhaps, it was time that he saw it too.
She waits, for him to take his place beside her, as he always had.
Her heart beats fast, out of happiness or of fear, she isn’t sure.
And she asks herself, isn’t this where they should be? They were happy together, surely they were meant to be at each other’s side?
He had, always, been beside her. The two of them drew strength form each other, and by God, He knows the two of them have been through so much.
So why didn't she answer him?
What was holding her back?
Her head mocks her heart - she knew what it was.
She had always lived a good life, and she was gracious enough to let him in it.
And he had just asked her to live a new one.
She clutches on her sheets, as if she's afraid that someone would drag her away screaming.
(She was afraid that that someone was him.)
Deep breaths, she will simply tell him that perhaps, it wasn't the right time. That they have to...
Wait?
He waited long enough.
Be sure?
You once told him he was the most sure thing in your life right now.
That they have to be...
She shakes her head.
She doesn't have an answer for that.
What more for the one he just asked?