Her eyes shine with a thousand

reflected colors, once blue but now filled with a rainbow of hues. Smiling, her face glows with an inner joy so rarely found in actual life, except for brief moments of abandon. For in this short time, all of her cares are forgotten, and she feels nothing but warmth, contentment, and love. She delicately hangs the last of the few but precious ornaments on the sprightly pungent pine bough before her, then leans back against the strong body which affectionately holds her own. "There... it's perfect."
       He smiles tenderly down at her, tilting her face up with gentle fingertips, his eyes gazing with complete adoration into hers. He presses his lips softly to her forehead, and her eyes close in utter happiness. "I love you," he murmurs quietly, his voice low and filled with rare emotion.
       "Oh sweetheart... I love you." She hugs his arms tightly around her, sighing blissfully. "I feel so at home right now..."
       He hugs her tightly, resting his chin against her hair as they gaze together at their first Christmas tree. "As do I, my love."
       For a few minutes, they fall into a comfortable silence, she daydreamily gazing at the many-colored lights, thinking of her childhood past and the childhood of her own children she hopes is yet to come, he thinking of how warm she is in his arms, and how glad he is for all the work and worry they have gone through to reach this moment. The tree is not terribly large, but they have scarcely enough ornaments to properly cover it, nor had they the funds to purchase a tree as tall as she remembered from childhood. Yet it looks well, the needles a rich green, and the scent alone carries with it all the happy memories of each Christmas they have had in their lives combined, as well as the promise of those yet to come. There are a few small gifts beneath the cheerily-lit boughs, though each is carefully and lovingly wrapped.
       "Everything looks beautiful, dear. I think we should just stay in this room, beside the tree, until New Year's. No leaving." He clings to her tightly, preventing her from movement.
       Giggling, she submits to his inescapable embrace. "Sounds wonderful to me. Your boss won't mind you being out a few days?"
       "Screw him. You're more important to me."
       She smiles warmly and snuggles closer to him in delight. "What about visiting our families, and the rest of our plans?"
       "Eh. Mine will understand, and do we really want to see your father anyway?"
       Laughing, she turns about in his arms and kisses his nose playfully. "You've got a point, I'll grant you that one. But won't you get hungry, darling?"
       He pauses a moment, pondering seriously. "Well, I guess you can leave the room, but only to bring back food."
       She laughs in amusement at the show of chauvinism she knows he hasn't the least trace of. "What if we just order in for a few weeks?"
       "Sure! We'll just leave a spare key by the front door--- no, better! We'll just tell them to deliver the food to the window here, we can just open that, and use the window instead of the door."
       "Safer that way, too. That way if the delivery boy is really a psychopathic serial killer, he can't shove his way past us and into the house as easily, he'd have to climb in and we could shut the window on him."
       "Unless he has a gun ready, he could shoot us as soon as we open the window to get the food. Or even before we open the window."
       "That's very true. But if he had a gun, we'd be screwed if he came to the door, too."
       "Yeah... So what were we talking about?"
       They both dissolve into the giggles which had been threatening for some time, collapsing to the floor and snuggling up merrily. And when at last the laughter subsides, it leaves behind the warm glow which has surrounded their hearts all evening. Cozy and content, they rest in each others' arms for a long while, perfectly happy and at peace.

       Later that evening, as he finishes putting away the dishes from dinner, she wanders back into the room, sitting on the piano bench and gazing at the still-lit tree. She allows her eyes to unfocus a little, smiling as she sees the colors blur and star, twinkling as they meet her fine lashes. Childhood memories flit gently by, of lying beneath the tree, gazing up at colored lights through bristled branches, reflected and refracted from the delicate shimmer of tinsel and glass. She remembers evenings spent sneaking about the house, looking for presents hidden, or poking surreptitiously at those already under the tree. There is a sadness which colors these thoughts, for she knows such innocent memories are no more than that, memories, and the childlike wonder and rapture can never quite be now regained. Yet she forces a smile, shaking her head gently, knowing she has gained much in the years which have passed, and that she would not trade the surety and warmth of the love she has found with him for anything.
       Turning on the bench, she faces the piano, and begins to casually flip through the pages of the old Christmas songbook which rests against the delicately carved music rack. Smiling, she finds a fairly simple arrangement of a longtime favorite, and lifts the cover of the keys. She rests her fingers gently on the aged keys of ivory and wood, letting the memory of years past relay the skill her fingers once had to them. Quietly, delicately, she presses the keys, gradually growing more confident as old habits return, and the harmonies flow sensitively from the long-silent piano.
       Without a sound, he enters the room, drying his hands on his loose-fitting jeans. Leaning inside the doorway, he gazes at his heart's love, smiling with a gentleness only she and the mirror are ever let see. He had not wanted to rent a house as old as this, the sense of age only made it feel dingy to him, but he saw at a glance how happy it made her. And together, they have made it feel like home for both of them, though they do not know how long they will remain here. Their lives are as yet too unsettled... and much as he desires to ask her the question they have for some time now been eager to settle, he still waits. He waits, because he does not want to have her take his name until he is certain he is able to give her the home and security she deserves. He knows she would only smile and say that he already has, but there is more to it, and he wants to be absolutely certain of the ground beneath them. It would break him if he could not provide his wife a safe and secure place to live, and food on the table, and---
       He smiles at himself, shaking his head in amusement. My wife... God, she's even got me thinking it now...
       But he does not mind, much as he might outwardly protest.
       "What should I play next, dear?" Her cheerful question startles him from his thoughts.
       He chuckles. "How did you know I was here?"
       Only now turning to grin brightly at him, she giggles softly. "I heard your footsteps, silly. I learned to recognize your steps by sound ages ago, remember? And, too, the floor creaks."
       He smiles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're hopeless. Here," he says as he tosses an oven mitt at her. "Your cookies smell like they're about done. But I didn't want to check, because A, I would be wrong, and two, you would throttle me if you heard the oven door open without your permission."
       Her eyes laughing, she nods in agreement as she slips on the oven mitt, getting up from the bench. As she passes him near the doorway, she stands on her tiptoes to kiss his lips lightly. "Thank you," she says with a gentle smile.
       His eyes hold both amusement and confusion. "For..?"
       "Everything," she replies with a bright grin, before leaving the room for the kitchen.

       Settling onto the sofa on the other side of the piano, he finds the remote controller and turns on the television, flipping idly through the channels, not really paying particular attention to any one thing. Eventually finding a rerun of a comedy show, he leaves it on and lets his eyes drift around the room. Smiling wryly, he takes in all the small touches she has put into the room, photographs mostly, in cheap but nice frames. An old vase here, a souvenir there, little things that lend a homelike feel to the room, though he would have done things much more simply. Bit the intricately patterned scarf she has laid over the battered old end table by the TV, the varied figurines she has used as bookends on the bookcase by the door, the candles she has set on the piano, all of this he will admit he would never have thought of, but brighten the room and make it theirs, pushing back the ghosts of past inhabitants.
       Yet there are some things she has been unable to hide. There is a slight dent knocked into one wall, there are a few dark stains on the aging wood floor, though the rug largely hides them. No matter how many scented candles she lets burn, and despite the strong scent of pine now prevailing, there is a slight mustiness to the air in the room, which he has never liked, though he now rarely notices it.
       But just now a new scent attracts his attention - freshly baked peanut butter cookies. Leaping to his feet, he runs over to meet her, grinning brightly. "Can I? Please?"
       She smiles, her eyes shining brightly, thrilled to see her baking in such demand, as well as at how happy she is able to make him. "Yes, dear, you may."
       His face bright as a child's on Christmas morning (the fairy-lit rainbow of the tree behind him only adding to the image), he snatches the plate of warm cookies from her hands and falls back onto the couch, immediately shoving one completely into his mouth.
       "Oh honey! Careful, they're---" Her warning dissipates into helpless giggles as his eyes bug widely and he makes a sound of distress, fanning his mouth rapidly. "Hot! Oh hot, oh---!"
       Darting out of the room, she returns almost instantly with a cold glass of milk. He takes it from her and eagerly drinks it half-empty in a single go, sighing in contentment and sinking into the couch, the warm plate balanced on his legs. "Ahhh... thank you."
       Still laughing, but softer now, she kisses his cheek gently as she curls up beside him. "Good?"
       "Oh God, yes! you're amazing I love you I'm keeping you," he effuses in a rush, punctuating his praise with a solid kiss to her lips.
       "Yay!" she exclaims in girlish glee, beaming happily as she snuggles up closer beside him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and laying her head in his lap - careful, of course, not to disturb the cookies. "Mmm... remind me to get the next batch in about ten minutes?"
       "Okay. These will probably be gone by then..."
       Nodding, she chuckles softly, kissing his stomach affectionately through his shirt. "That's why I made double the usual batch, dear."
       Grinning widely, he gazes down at her in a warm blend of adoration and awe. "I love you."
       Smiling, he eyes closed, she hugs his waist happily. "I love you... tonight's really perfect, isn't it?"
       He lays a hand tenderly on her hair, stroking it slowly, his voice soft. "Yeah... Peanut butter cookies are the best."
       Laughing, she rolls her eyes and pokes his side. "I meant---"
       "I know what you meant, shh, let me hold you like this, I like this."
       "Me too..." She sighs contentedly again, letting her eyes close. "Nights like this... you really need, every now and again, to soothe all the hurt and worry from the times in between, y'know?"
       "Mmhmm..."

       They fall into comfortable silence, neither of them really listening to the TV, simply soaking in the peacefulness of secure companionship. She rests in his lap with eyes softly closed, listening to him breathe as she herself breathes him in. He rests a hand gently in her hair, letting his eyes and fingertips caress soft hair and skin.

       "Sweetheart?"
       "Mmhmm?"
       "...someday, will you let me be married to you?" She flushes; he is breathless a moment with happiness, before leaning over and kissing her temple tenderly.
       "Of course, my love... of course."