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maeve

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Steve kind of sucks at picking out gifts. It's not that he doesn't want to. His heart's in it, but he's just dumb. He can own that.

Still, he does his best. On Christmas Eve, he leaves a gift for Robin under their dinky little tree, sets aside the rest to be handed out later, and slips his gift for Maeve into his overnight bag. He slips out of his apartment in a red sweater and fitted jeans, black pea coat and dark blue scarf, braving the chill and slick roads to make his way over to Maeve's. He stops on the way to pick up pizza, making sure to get all of Maeve's favorites, and then stops again to get some eggnog and brandy. It isn't really the sexiest meal, but it's all good and comforting, and that's what they both need on Christmas, he thinks.

When he gets to the building, he makes his way up to Maeve's floor and thinks about how if they were living together, they'd already be together. He wouldn't have to pack an overnight bag because his stuff would already be there. They just had their two year anniversary, and Steve knows that Maeve is it for him. He's pretty sure that he'd marry her tomorrow if she'd let him, even if that means that he'll never have kids of his own.

He isn't going to give up that shred of hope that she's given him, but he knows that he'll have to be okay if it never happens. He can't put that expectation on her, can't move forward expecting her to change her mind. Maybe she will, but it's okay if she doesn't.

It isn't time to propose, not for either of them, he's pretty sure, but maybe there's something else they could do, some smaller step to take. Maybe Steve will finally work up the courage to ask.

He makes it to her door almost in autopilot, lost in his thoughts, and he shakes it off before shifting the pizza boxes to one arm so he can knock on the door. "Santa's here to come down your chimney!"

The door across the hall opens and a family exits, dressed in church clothes and all ready for mass, and the mother glares deeply at Steve, who turns to grimace awkwardly at her. "Sorry, Mrs. Foster."

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Steve's gift is wrapped up beneath the small, fake tree Maeve had bought last year on clearance as the season came to a close. It's always the best time to get anything, when there's no longer a demand for it, and she likes the size, the way it twinkles with the pre-added lights, how it makes everything feel just a little bit more like Christmas.

She's never really had a proper Christmas before Darrow.

She'd gotten him a proper messenger bag made, one he'll be able to use through school and then into work. It's brown leather, big enough for his laptop, notebooks, maybe a few books, with pockets for his wallet and phone and whatever else he might need. On the flap, at the corner, she'd had his initials monogrammed into the leather and she really hopes he likes it.

"Wait, let me get yours, then," she says as she sets the box on the table, then retrieves his gift from under the little tree. "Ready?"

Steve figured that Maeve would get him a gift, but he really has no idea what to expect. He perks when she brings the box over to him, reaching out to accept it from her. She grabs her gift, settles back on the sofa, and the question implies that they'll open the gifts at the same time. He likes that idea. Maybe that way he won't stare at her like a nervous creep.

"Ready," Steve says, smiling over at her and then ducking his head to focus on excitedly unwrapping the gift. He liked Christmas growing up, because what kid doesn't, but he could always guess what was going to be under the tree for him. It'd be whatever was popular, whatever every other kid was getting, standard spoiled rich kid fare. Yeah, he liked it, but he wasn't ever surprised.

Getting a Christmas gift from Maeve makes him feel almost giddy, excited like he's a little kid, and he opens the box with his tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth in concentration. He lifts the messenger bag out, brows raising as he pushes the box away to hold the bag in his lap, running his fingers along the soft leather. He turns it over and lets out a surprised breath when he sees his initials on it.

"Maeve, I love this," he says sincerely, because it's probably one of the most thoughtful gifts that he's ever been given. It's something personal, something that he'll have use for, that'll be with him every day.

In a rare turn, Maeve is so distracted by the gift in her hands that she barely notices Steve's reaction to what she's got for him. She hates that she's missed it, but maybe it's worth it, because in the box nestled between her hands is a perfect little necklace.

One for her, she thinks, and one for him.

The length of the chair is just right, too, short enough to hang above the other necklaces she wears so it isn't covered by anything else and Maeve is biting the inside of her lip, trying not to tear up, when Steve speaks.

"Oh," she says, looking up quickly before she brushes the back of her hand against her cheek. "You like it? I thought it would be something you could use over and over..."

When Steve looks over at Maeve again, she's staring down at the necklaces with tears in her eyes. They're good tears, he thinks, but something in his gut twists at seeing Maeve cry at all and he moves closer to her, holding the messenger bag in his lap as his other arm goes around Maeve's shoulders. He looks down at the necklaces in the box, identical aside from the initial and the chain length, and then back at the side of her face.

"Does this mean that you like them?" He asks quietly, kissing away a tear on her cheek before nudging his nose against her temple, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Maybe it's a little old-fashioned, but I got one for me, too. If you're wearing mine, then I want to wear yours, you know? 'cause we're a team."

The explanation makes it even better -- we're a team -- and Maeve's mouth twists into a smile as she nods. Saying she likes the gift feels like it doesn't explain it clearly enough, it doesn't explain what it means to her, to have someone who sees himself as being on her side. No matter what they face, she knows Steve will be there for her.

It's a crazy feeling after a life of being let down by everyone.

"I love it," she says, then looks up at him with the same smile. "Really, Steve, they're amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he says with a dopish grin, relieved by the reaction, which also makes him a little more confident about what he wants to ask her. A small part of him is worried it will be like the having kids fiasco all over again, but that's partly because he always seems to doubt himself on the things that really matter. In any case, he's going about it a lot better this time, not just blurting out an expectation.

"I love the bag, too. Definitely an upgrade from my knockoff Jansport," he says with a soft chuckle, kissing her forehead before pulling back to look at her. When he searches her eyes, he can see the love in them. It sounds corny, but it's true. Her face changes when she looks at him sometimes, shifting into an expression that no one else gets to see, and it makes him feel like he's on top of the world.

"There's something I wanted to ask you," he says after a moment, reaching up with his free hand to gently move a stray piece of hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear, careful to avoid the piercings. "Something I've been thinking about."

It doesn't take a mind reader to figure out where Steve is going with this fairly quickly. They've discussed the possibility of marriage somewhere down the road and recently enough Maeve knows he has the good sense not to jump into that line of questioning too soon.

That just leaves one other option, she has to figure. He wants them to live together. Without even having to think about it for very long, she knows she wants that, too.

"Yeah?" she asks. Maybe it's dumb, making him actually ask when she's almost entirely certain she knows what's coming, but Maeve wants to hear it. That he wants this, it's something special, and she wants him to ask, she wants those words to exist out in the world.

Maeve doesn't look apprehensive, which Steve takes as a good sign, but he's still nervous. He's confident about a lot of things, but being a good boyfriend isn't really one of them. Except that isn't exactly true. Maybe he's just not confident in his ability to be someone that people continue to love. He never really has been. His parents even got sick of him, not to mention the first girl that he ever actually loved.

But Maeve keeps on sticking around, even when Steve screws up, and he's so fucking grateful.

"I just--" He's nervous and he chuckles a little, cheeks going pink as he reaches up to push his hair out of his face. After taking a fortifying breath, he makes himself meet Maeve's gaze. "When I wake up and you're there next to me, it makes me so fucking happy, and I want that feeling every day. So-- I was wondering if you'd want to move in with me? Or I could move in with you." He smiles hopefully at her and puts his hand on her knee. "Or we could find a place with big windows. I just really want to live with you."

She's smiling even before Steve entirely gets the question out, something warm filling up her chest at the sight of his pink cheeks, the way he pushes his hair back, a nervous gesture she finds charming.

But then he brings up the big windows and Maeve's heart swoops in her chest. For her, those big windows have always been a sign of moving on with her life, finding something outside of what everyone has always expected of her. That Steve remembers means so much, that he brings it up with the sincerity of this moment makes her feel as if her chest is being squeezed tight.

All she can do is nod.

Maeve looks likes she's about to cry, but she's also has a big smile on his face, so Steve takes that as a good sign. Then she nods and Steve feels like he can breathe again. It's big and scary but he's so happy that all he can do is laugh happily and throw his arms around her, practically scooping her into his lap as he hugs her tightly.

"That's a yes, right? We're gonna do this?" Steve asks in a high voice, and he thinks that maybe this is the giddy excitement that was always missing from his Christmas mornings. This is what he wanted more than anything, something so deeply personal, and he actually got it. "Oh, thank god. That was so fucking scary."

He's laughing as he says it, lifting one hand to the back of her head as he rocks them a little. She'll understand what she means-- being so vulnerable is terrifying, even with someone he trusts more than anyone else.

"That's a yes," she agrees, settling herself into the circle of Steve's arms, her head against his chest, her eyes closed so she can listen to the sound of his heartbeat. "It's a yes."

She understands what Steve means, although she can't imagine how scary it was for him to ask. Saying yes is terrifying, too. Putting herself into a position where she's potentially going to be hurt, a situation where things begin to get a little more sticky if something goes wrong, it makes her heart pound hard within her chest.

There are details they'll need to think about, logistics, their current roommates, but Maeve doesn't want to think about any of that yet. She just wants to think about this, them, the moment they're sharing.

"Holy shit," Steve says with a happy laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Maeve's head. He knows that there's a lot to talk about, a lot of decisions to make and discussions to be had, and it all feels very adult, but he's happy. It's going to be hard, but they're going to be so happy.

"God, I love you," he says as he curls his fingers under her chin and lifts her head until he can kiss her forehead, her nose, and then her mouth, again and again. "I love you so fucking much, Maeve."

"I love you," she answers, reaching up with one hand, her fingers stroking against the edge of Steve's jaw. She's touching him as if it's the first time seeing him, the first time they've been here, looking at each other.

In a way, it does feel new. It's surprising, just how new it feels, just with this one little change.

"This will be great," she promises. She speaks with a sense of optimism she rarely feels, but she means every word.

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