365 Days (Part 1) | ✓

107. Puzzle

107. Puzzles: Write about doing a puzzle - jigsaw, crossword, suduko, etc.

A/N: Let's be cute today!

Crossword

"Morning, Mary Ann Ellen."

He always called her by her full name. He once said just one name did not fit her, that each name was one such poetic representation of her that to be apart was to split beauty through the seams.

"Crossword," he said, placing the morning paper, already folded with neat creases in front of her. He laid it in exact angles, perpendicular to her pencil. He was such an odd mixture of romanticism and correctness.

He carressed Mary Ann Ellen's face with his hand, tucking her loose hairs behind her ear. His face was both gentle and intense. Such a contradiction. Such a man. What a human.

"Sorry I was away with no notice. I had a few errands to run and traffic was intent on ruining my schedule. How have you been, Mary Ann Ellen, while I was gone?"

A hand placed lightly upon his arm. He smiled. His teeth were not perfect, but she loved the slight crookedness to them. She loved the mole on his back and the dirty fingernails and his snoring as much as she loved his lovely eyes and silken voice and toned stomach. Every part of him. She loved every part of him.

His smile was as warm as the sun breaking out from the rainy sky. It bathed her, clensed her, made her feel... whole. She only felt whole when she knew love, and he introduced her to love.

"Crossword," he reminded gently.

She pointed to the other seat at the table. He laughed (rich, deep, laugh forever, please) and obediently sat. Though he was not a genius, he could be logical. He liked to help her with her crossword puzzles, and she liked him.

Mary Ann Ellen slid it to where they could both see it. The smallest hairs of their heads touched from the close proximity. She liked even this miniscule connection.

"Number five, four down, fresh prince," he read. He was going out of order. She rolled her eyes; he would choose the clue including a 90s show first. She wrote down, "Will."

"Number ten across, first letter pronoun of Beautiful Day singers."

Easy. Too easy. It was one of her favorite songs. Easy.

She wrote down "You."

He turned his head and pecked her cheek before continuing. She loved him.

"Number seventeen, four across, bloody Tudor Queen."

She strained her memory for the names of the Tudor monarchs. It had been years since they had been necessary to know; but she was out of school now.

Ah, yes. Bloody... "Mary," she wrote.

He looked at her and said in an oddly tense voice, "After 'doe a deer.'"

She laughed. She could still do that. Besides, that was one of her favorite musicals and movies. This crossword was too easy. Too obvious. Sometimes she had days like this, where each answer was plain. Other days, she did not know where she went or what to do. Such was life.

"Me," she wrote.

He was silent, and there was something in him rhat was coiled tightly, ready to spring open at the slightest touch. She looked at him questioningly. He merely pointed, emptions compressed, at the puzzle grid.

She cocked her head and read what the four words spelled, "Will you marry me?"