Topeka-fic~
I keep feeling like I need to explain things, AHEM. Early in my fic-writing career I decided what Tin Man fandom REALLY needed was a fake TV show cop-drama AU in Topeka. Then I went and made a fake TV Tropes entry on my vanity fic-verse journal. Hilariously no one discouraged any of this. It would basically be Glitch/Cain/angst, Raw/DG/adorkability, and Az/Airofday/hotness, and for a while it was all of these things and amazing. Aaaand then I forgot how to write.
Anyway. With all this Prop 8 stuff going on (despite this evening's update), I feel the need for some horrible, sappy, cliche stuff that I HAD promised myself I would never, ever write. This is season six or seven and is fraught with my own wishful thinking of where we'll be in a few years. I give you The (Very Brief) Bit With The Proposal.
---
The back veranda was one of Wyatt's favorite places in the house, especially when the long days of summer melted into warm, humid nights. A couple of beers or a bottle of wine, some snacks, a porch swing and quiet company, the perfect way to end a day of crime fighting.
Beside him, Ambrose got that look, one that meant he'd been struck with an idea but was unsure whether he'd had it before or not.
"What is it?" he asked, because even if he'd heard it a dozen times he still wanted to know.
The response was a shrug and a smile before Ambrose resumed watching the backyard for fireflies.
Wyatt, ever patient, sat back and waited, using his toe to gently rock the swing. Whatever it was couldn't have been too unique, otherwise Ambrose would have been right out with it.
There was a good chance he'd just been distracted by the sultry June night. The distant heat lightning promised rain and probably a roll in the sheets (or on some convenient semi-horizontal surface) as they were quite fond of storms.
In time, Ambrose's dark, thoughtful gaze returned to Wyatt, accompanied by a silly grin. "I've got a proposal for you."
"Do you?" Wyatt asked and raised his eyebrows. "And what would that be?"
"I think we should go to Iowa."
Wyatt frowned. "What the hell's in Iowa? Besides more corn." His eyes widened as it clicked. "Oh. By proposal you mean-"
"Proposal, yeah," Ambrose said with a nod and picked nervously at the chipped paint on the swing's seat. "I...I've never been married, you know, and I know I said it wasn't my style but I'm allowed to change my mind, right?"
"Of course you are," Wyatt said and took his hand, ostensibly to prevent more damage to the paint but their twining fingers betrayed his true motive. "Why Iowa, though? We could go to California, or New Hampshire, or Washington-"
"I was thinking, you know, we could sneak up, get it done, no big fuss."
With a grin Wyatt leaned over and kissed his nose. "Maybe I want a big fuss."
"First time for everything," Ambrose remarked, then tilted his head. "Hang on, I think I missed you saying yes."
"Me too," Wyatt replied. "I guess I wasn't sure I needed to say it."
Ambrose sulked, but his eyes sparked with something more than reflected lightning. "I'd like to hear it. Your traditionalist tendencies must be rubbing off on me."
There was a moment's pause as Wyatt considered exactly which thread to pick up on there "If you want tradition then you'd better get down on bended knee."
"Stop trying to make me ruin this blessed moment with cheap innuendo."
"Stop talking about rubbing."
"Are you gonna marry me or not, lieutenant?"
"Yeah. Let's do it."
There came one of those rare moments when Ambrose was speechless, then he closed the gap between them for a kiss, one that intensified at the first roll of thunder. It wasn't perfect, never had been and never would be, but there was a chance it could be forever.
fin
Anyway. With all this Prop 8 stuff going on (despite this evening's update), I feel the need for some horrible, sappy, cliche stuff that I HAD promised myself I would never, ever write. This is season six or seven and is fraught with my own wishful thinking of where we'll be in a few years. I give you The (Very Brief) Bit With The Proposal.
---
The back veranda was one of Wyatt's favorite places in the house, especially when the long days of summer melted into warm, humid nights. A couple of beers or a bottle of wine, some snacks, a porch swing and quiet company, the perfect way to end a day of crime fighting.
Beside him, Ambrose got that look, one that meant he'd been struck with an idea but was unsure whether he'd had it before or not.
"What is it?" he asked, because even if he'd heard it a dozen times he still wanted to know.
The response was a shrug and a smile before Ambrose resumed watching the backyard for fireflies.
Wyatt, ever patient, sat back and waited, using his toe to gently rock the swing. Whatever it was couldn't have been too unique, otherwise Ambrose would have been right out with it.
There was a good chance he'd just been distracted by the sultry June night. The distant heat lightning promised rain and probably a roll in the sheets (or on some convenient semi-horizontal surface) as they were quite fond of storms.
In time, Ambrose's dark, thoughtful gaze returned to Wyatt, accompanied by a silly grin. "I've got a proposal for you."
"Do you?" Wyatt asked and raised his eyebrows. "And what would that be?"
"I think we should go to Iowa."
Wyatt frowned. "What the hell's in Iowa? Besides more corn." His eyes widened as it clicked. "Oh. By proposal you mean-"
"Proposal, yeah," Ambrose said with a nod and picked nervously at the chipped paint on the swing's seat. "I...I've never been married, you know, and I know I said it wasn't my style but I'm allowed to change my mind, right?"
"Of course you are," Wyatt said and took his hand, ostensibly to prevent more damage to the paint but their twining fingers betrayed his true motive. "Why Iowa, though? We could go to California, or New Hampshire, or Washington-"
"I was thinking, you know, we could sneak up, get it done, no big fuss."
With a grin Wyatt leaned over and kissed his nose. "Maybe I want a big fuss."
"First time for everything," Ambrose remarked, then tilted his head. "Hang on, I think I missed you saying yes."
"Me too," Wyatt replied. "I guess I wasn't sure I needed to say it."
Ambrose sulked, but his eyes sparked with something more than reflected lightning. "I'd like to hear it. Your traditionalist tendencies must be rubbing off on me."
There was a moment's pause as Wyatt considered exactly which thread to pick up on there "If you want tradition then you'd better get down on bended knee."
"Stop trying to make me ruin this blessed moment with cheap innuendo."
"Stop talking about rubbing."
"Are you gonna marry me or not, lieutenant?"
"Yeah. Let's do it."
There came one of those rare moments when Ambrose was speechless, then he closed the gap between them for a kiss, one that intensified at the first roll of thunder. It wasn't perfect, never had been and never would be, but there was a chance it could be forever.
fin