He’s on one knee, hands stretched out to her with a box, and he’s looking at her like hers is the only face he ever wants to see.
A mini-series of different proposal possibilities, inspired by 7x05.
Read on ao3 or ffn, or under the cut
The California sun beats down on Street and Chris as they reach the peak of Solstice Canyon, not yet as hot as it will be, but hot enough. Water from the different falls that once provided a cool reprieve on their neck and wrists has long dried and been replaced with sweat and the grit of dirt.
Chris looks as beautiful as ever to Street. Despite her being in front, her hand reached back for his at the start of the trail and she hasn’t let go except when she’s had to, to get over the rocky terrain. Her tan skin glows, and the tattoos over her arms and back, the newest addition of a small ‘26’ just above her wrist bone, are like a map to the future. Every time she glances back to make sure he’s still with her, the gold flecks in her eyes grow. He wants to live in them.
“You good?” She asks with a laugh as they finally reach the overlook. Wiping his brow with his freehand and chugging down water, he nods.
“Perfect.” Street confirms, hands on his knees. “You do this every Saturday morning?”
“Pretty much. First with Champ, then it was a nice change from the intensity of SWAT. I’m glad you finally got out here with me.”
“Me too,” he smiles, his heart rate coming down from the hike so he can appreciate the never-ending view of lush greens and blue sky. There’s a boulder to the side that Chris props herself on to take it all in. He slides off his backpack, eyeing the front pocket as his pulse picks up again, then takes a deep breath and joins her. She leans into him when he wraps his arm around her shoulder.
“This is beautiful,” Street murmurs, eyes locked on Chris. She rolls hers but is betrayed by the soft pink blush that paints over her cheeks. Sitting in the silence with nothing but the gentle breeze and sound of the other’s breathing, she finds his free hand and squeezes it.
They sit in the moment until a speck of sand gets caught in her throat and she takes her hand back to cover her cough. Rubbing easy circles on her back, Street leans over and grabs his water bottle to hand to her, his backpack coming with it.
“Ugh, thank you,” Chris says, turning to the side to finish clearing her throat.
Certain this might be his only opportunity, Street feels the world stop around him. The air stills, the rustling of the leaves stops, and the only thing he’s aware of is his own heartbeat, Chris next to him, and the box in his backpack. Fingers moving of their own volition, he gets the front pocket unzipped and closes his hand around the small blue box.
His blood rushes in his ears as his knee hits the hard, dusty ground, and he dries his palms on his shorts before getting a good hold on the box and opening it. The semicircle of diamonds sparkles in the high sunlight and the gold half shines with a bright reflection of whatever catches it. He sees his hands shaking ever so slightly but makes no effort to still them. His pupils dilate the longer he waits for her to turn around.
After coughing for what feels like an eternity, Chris opens the water bottle and finishes it. Her eyes close as she relishes how it slows her back down and cuts through the heat. Shaking off the last of the attack, she wipes her eyes and the water on her chin, and turns to give Street the bottle back.
“Than—”
“Will you marry me?”
Chris freezes. Street’s voice hits her, but the words don’t process as she takes in the scene in front of her. He’s on one knee, hands stretched out to her with a box, and he’s looking at her like hers is the only face he ever wants to see. She knows her mouth is hanging open and her eyes are wide, stunned to silence in a way she’s never been before. Slowly, the steadiness of her heart beat resonates through the rest of her as it all clicks into place how right this feels.
Her eyes trace back up his face, his bottom lip now between his teeth as the nerves that were a spark before grow into a wild blaze. He wants to tell her to say something, or to repeat himself in case she didn’t hear him, but he doesn’t have to as she stands and takes a step towards him, pushed on by some innate knowing, reaching out until their hands brush. It sends the same kind of want through him that it did on the first day they met.
“Yes,” Chris says, bringing the world back to its axis for both of them. A bird squawks, and she brings a hand up to block her eyes from the sun as he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her left ring finger. Her hand takes his before he can drop it as he tucks the box back into his shorts pocket. Standing, Street lets every sensation from the smell of the breeze to the itchiness of tiny gravel stuck in his knee sink in, not wanting to forget a thing.
With her hand, he pulls her in easily and wraps his arms around her back, meeting their lips as her feet leave the ground. She laughs against his lips until he sets her down. Pulling back, arms loose around his neck, she matches his wide smile and gazes at the ring over his shoulder.
“I love you,” she repeats as their eyes meet again. Street manages to smile even bigger as his heart slows back down and all the tension drains from his body.
“I love you so much.”
He kisses her again and then a third time, Chris just as eager. She brings her newly-adorned hand to cradle his face as he deepens the kiss and moans.
They’re breathless when they part, and tears rush to Street’s eyes when he sees the ones lining her lash line. She hugs him as close as she physically can and nuzzles into his neck. His heart is beating like a drum in his chest, strong and steady.
“That’s why you agreed to hike with me?” Chris teases, needing a lightness to cut through the moment and recenter them. His dimples get deeper and he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, any air of his usual cockiness traded for pure emotion.
“It is.” He chuckles softly. “It’s special to you, now it’s special to us.”
Street looking out over the horizon once more, she keeps her gaze locked on his profile.
“Got a hell of a view.” She murmurs, her breath hot on his skin. A shiver runs through him, and he turns back to her, stepping behind her so he can wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her cheek. His chin finds her shoulder, and he grins.
i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings
“I love you, Chris,” he starts, spurred on by her even nod and gentle smirk. Her heart starts to beat louder in her chest, like her body knows what’s coming, but she doesn’t let her hopes run away with her yet.
part two of darling, you're the one i want
read on ao3, ffn, or under the cut
Their first official date is nothing less than a mess.
First, both have to push it back for their jobs taking them away for days at a time, then their first choice of restaurant is impossible to get a reservation at, and, when they think they’ve nailed something down, Chris wakes up the morning of with the flu courtesy of her nephew that keeps her out of commission for another week.
“I’m not counting this,” she mutters in a stuffy voice, barely audible over the drone of her TV. It’s not until she’s asleep with her head in his lap and his hand carding through her hair that he gets what she means.
When they finally find themselves sitting across from one another, it’s at a diner a few blocks from Street’s house, at almost 9pm. The small TV in the corner is replaying footage of a swat op, colored lines cutting through the tape every few seconds. Their waitress, despite the discerning lack of people in the place, takes fifteen minutes to get their drinks. When she sets them down, the clunk of the plastic on linoleum breaks through their thick silence.
They’ve known one another for years. They’ve saved each other’s lives more than once. We’ve had sex, they each think. But neither can keep the pressure of perfection from hanging over the table, the rain heavy enough to shutter the butterflies in their stomachs.
“How was your day?” Chris asks, for what feels like the thousandth time, as her glass sweats onto her hand. Street nods and taps his straw against the table to tear its paper wrapper.
“Good,” he smiles tightly. “Beat 40-Squad during drills, so that’s always a nice thing to have to hold over them. How was yours?”
She shrugs. Her eyes fall to his hands, where his nimble fingers are rolling the straw wrapper into a thin band.
“Okay, still a big adjustment. I feel good about it, though.”
She takes a sip of her water to cover the way her stomach flips, unsure of what to say next.
“I’m happy for you. Give me your hand.”
“Why?” She questions. His grin grows and her eyes narrow with suspicion.
“Just do it.” He goads, needing to cut the tension before it suffocates them both. Rolling her eyes, Chris looks around the dimly lit joint one more time. No witnesses in sight, she slides her right hand over the table to him.
Street moves her hand so her pointer finger hovers over the band of straw wrapper. Carefully, he wraps the two ends around her finger and ties it off, the small knot on top like where a diamond would sit. His own hand is warm and familiar in hers when he holds her steady so he can rip the extra off without tearing the whole thing. Satisfied with his work, he gives Chris her hand back, and meets her eyes.
It’s like the clouds over them open up, offering blue sky and warm sunshine that it’s impossible not to relax under. She lets out a light laugh, shaking her head but it’s clear how much she adores him. She puts her hand up to admire his work.
“I like it.”
------------------
Somewhere between then and now, it becomes a habit. Straw wrappers for everything from smoothies at the pier to SWAT galas and dinners at Paul’s turn into rings.
Street experiments with how to twist and fold the paper, eventually getting so good at it he can close the knots before sliding the ring onto her finger, and it fits perfectly every time. A rush runs through her whenever he takes her hand to put it on, regardless of where he does.
Each new addition to the collection gets carried home safely in her jacket pocket. They end up strewn about in the cup holders of her truck or in her backpack, but mostly in her nightstand drawer, little white rings like stars to make wishes on. She doesn’t know if he’s noticed that she’s kept them all, an ever-growing promise that she can’t help but look forward to.
------------------
The restaurant is bustling as Street holds the door open for Chris, transporting them from the sweet smell of late spring air to mouthwatering burgers and thick-cut fries. He runs his hand down her leather jacket to rest on the small of her back as their eyes adjust from the bright sun to the low-yellow lighting and exposed brick walls. Recognizing them, the host offers a smile and has menus in hand before they even reach her.
“Hey! Glad to have you guys back with us. Corner table alright?”
With a quick look between them, Chris nods.
“Perfect, thank you.”
The three weave around the other tables and servers, eyes drifting from one plate of tantalizing food to the next, until they reach theirs. Menus set down, the host promises to return with water and leaves them with another easy smile. With so many bodies, Chris slides her jacket off to reveal the toned arms that Street fell in love with. She rolls her eyes at how he stares, but he makes no move to do the same with his own jacket, needing to feel the constant weight of the box in his pocket. His heart speeds up just thinking about it.
“Here you are,” the host says as she sets down two glasses of water and cuts through his train of thought. “Your server will be over in a minute. Enjoy!”
Street squeezes the lemon into his water, chuckling at how Chris wrinkles her nose, and draws his eyes over the menu.
“You’re not doing your usual?” Chris teases, though she’s also perusing. “No broccolini?”
He looks at her like it’s a ridiculous question. She laughs, brushing her foot up his leg under the table. Silence falls between them as they look over the menu, interrupted by a server a few minutes later, obviously stressed from the rush of people.
“Hi, sorry! What can I get you two to drink?”
“Iced tea with lemon, please,” Chris says, and is quickly echoed by Street. The server scratches it down.
“And are we ready to order?”
Sharing a look, they nod.
“I’ll do the Whiskey Bacon burger please, medium rare, with broccolini and fries. Thank you.”
Her eyebrows raise at Street as the server’s eyes swivel over.
“The All-American please, medium rare, also broccolini and fries.”
They hand the server their folded menus and he sticks his guest checks back in his pocket, scurrying away. Chris watches him go and then turns back to Street, their bodies settling into the space.
“How was work?”
“Calm, actually,” Street says on an exhale, his shoulders still knotted from their last op, which had him tackling a suspect. “Deacon’s helping Sanchez with a private security gig and Tan’s out of town with his mom, so Hicks has us holding down the fort at HQ. Still kicking ass, though.”
She rolls her eyes but laughs softly at his comment. He’s about to ask how her day was when their server sets down their iced teas and two straws. After opening hers, she gives the wrapper to Street, twinkles in both of their eyes. His heart skips a beat as he undoes his own straw and straightens out the paper. He feels his blood start rushing and reminds himself there’s an entire dinner to get through first, one that he’s been looking forward to for two weeks, and hopes Chris doesn’t notice the slow breaths he takes.
“I’m sure,” Chris continues. “Helena asked to do dinner at their place the next night you have free, by the way. Or breakfast, whatever works.”
“So you’re saying I can have another breakfast burger?” Street teases, eyes moving from the paper that he’s expertly folding to Chris’s hands. She grimaces, saying, if that’s what he wants.
“You and Tomas both with those.”
He chuckles, and she relaxes into the deep set of his dimples and how the green in his eyes catches in the lighting. She’s content to watch him finish folding the ring, throwing around in her head which finger it’s for. When he’s done, he looks up and straight into her soft eyes, and a warm blush creeps up his neck.
His gaze drops to her left ring finger and he wants nothing more than to take her hand, but he’s afraid he’ll give himself away so he takes her right instead. It’s exhilarating nonetheless, and the smile Chris gives him could save the world.
“I love you,” he says quietly. It gets lost in the noise to everyone but them.
“I love you, too. Thanks for the ring.”
------------------
By the time they leave Paul’s, the air has chilled slightly and the periwinkle dusk has been replaced by stars. Chris wraps a hand around Street’s forearm as the door swings shut behind them.
“You still want to go for a walk?” Street asks, butterflies in his stomach underlined with fear that she’ll say no. The ring in his pocket grows heavier by the second. Looking across the street, down the path that borders the shore, Chris takes a second to feel out her own body, and nods.
“Lead the way.”
His hand is warm in hers as they fall in step with each other. The crosswalk changes and they find themselves on the other side of the street, the gentle crashing of the waves and their own footsteps is all they hear. It’s a silence neither ever thought they’d be used to living in, let alone with someone else, but Chris focuses on the constant brush of Street’s thumb over hers, and he keeps his on keeping his breathing steady.
“Chris?” He asks, once they’re so far down the walk that there’s no other souls around and the restaurant is nothing more than a blip of light behind them. Nerves sit on his voice, and she stops walking but doesn’t drop his hand.
“Yeah? You okay?”
“Yeah,” he promises with a nod, his grip on her tightening as his other hand closes around the box in his pocket. He looks away from her and over the horizon, trying to memorize the shape of the world and how it was never this clear before her. Thinking about every moment they’ve spent together, good, bad, and otherwise brings tears rushing to his eyes.
“Street?” Chris whispers, concern in her irises and her free hand cradling his cheek so he has to look back at her. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Laughing in disbelief and gratitude, he shakes his head small to try to dry the tears, and looks down at their interconnected hands before finding her eyes.
“Nothing, really. Well, something, but—”
Stopping himself, Street grounds himself in the rise and fall of his shoulders through a 4-count inhale and an 8-count exhale. He takes the ring out of his pocket, but keeps it tight in his fist so she doesn’t notice just yet.
“I love you, Chris,” he starts, spurred on by her even nod and gentle smirk. Her heart starts to beat louder in her chest, like her body knows what’s coming, but she doesn’t let her hopes run away with her yet.
“I’ve loved you since I don’t know when. Maybe it was the first day we met, maybe it was during one of the million times that you saved my ass or helped me when you had no reason to, but I know now, at this moment, I love you. I’m always going to love you. You keep me safe, you make me a better person.”
Tears start rolling down his cheeks faster, some wiped away by Chris’s thumb, and he makes no move to stop them. She feels tears start to gather in her eyes, too, her teeth finding her bottom lip to keep her from speaking too soon. The instinct to take a second of her own to look around hits her and she follows it without question. Waves churn beneath her, but the ground they’re standing on is solid in more ways than one. The metal on his jacket shines underneath the streetlamp, his cheeks red and his lips pink. Glancing down, she sees the almost-translucent ring of paper around her right pointer finger, and can’t stop the teary-laugh that escapes. He waits for her to find him again, clearing his throat.
“You—You’ve given me a life that I never thought was possible. A life that I never want to stop living. Will you please—”
He stops, dropping her hand so he can open the box with both of his, afraid he’s shaking so much that he’ll drop it. She takes a small step back to give him room as he starts to kneel. When he fumbles with the box again, she steadies him with a hand on his wrist, nodding before he’s even started talking again.
“Will you please marry me?”
Her heart pounds loud and high in her chest. It feels like she’s flying, and she’s not scared of crashing. Her tears blur her vision and the streaks of light make it hard to actually see the ring, but the moment goes so fast it doesn’t matter. Street’s pulling the ring from its velvet bed and sliding it onto her ring finger as she answers.
“Yes!” She exclaims, nodding harder. The second he’s back on his feet, she pulls him to her, hands splayed over his face and jaw so their lips can meet in a salty, passionate kiss that feels as familiar to them as breathing. His arms wrap around her shoulders to hold her closer, and she nuzzles into his neck when they have to part for air.
With Chris in his arms and his pocket notably lighter, Street feels his pulse start to return to its baseline, the anxiety and anticipation of the last few hours replaced by a golden warmth spreading through him that he wants to bottle up.
“I love you,” Chris murmurs. It brings him out of his thoughts, and her lips are on his again not a second later. This kiss is slower, their bodies syncing up and drawing out every inch of connection between them. Her lips turn into a smile against his. A fire starts hot and wild in his core, sure the same light is blazing in Chris when he sees the look in her eyes.
“You want to head home?” He asks. It feels more permanent saying it now, though, and he never wants to get tired of it. A blush comes over her at his tone, nothing but excitement and hunger and affection, and she nods, still catching her breath.
“Yeah. Home,” she trails off, glancing back to take in the walkway and the moon one more time.
-------------
After, Street’s pressing a trail of kisses up Chris’s shoulder and neck, eliciting a laugh that turns into a moan. Covering his hand that rests on her stomach with hers, she squeezes to make him stop, so he nuzzles into the nape of her neck instead. Her left arm is stretched out in front of her, the ring shining under the light of her bedside lamp, and Street’s lashes brush over her skin when he opens his eyes to look, too.
“I want the box,” she whispers, feeling him shrug behind her.
“Of course. Right now, or?”
“No,” she stops him, tone light. “I just want to keep it in my nightstand drawer.”
His eyes narrow and she turns her head over her shoulder to look at his face. Smiling, she drops his hand and reaches over to open the drawer, pulling him up to look at it. The collection of the straw-wrapper rings she has, the newest addition from tonight swept from the nightstand into the drawer, makes his heart swell. Some are yellowed or frayed with time, others are smushed, but it’s impossible to tell at first glance how many there even are. She feels a hot tear on her shoulder and turns over to face him completely, barely any space between their bodies.
“I didn’t know you kept all of them,” he confesses. She shrugs, traces her eyes over his face until her nerves settle back into themselves.
“I felt like they’d be important one day, I guess.” She says in a soft voice. “Whenever I’d look at them, I’d think of right now. Or something like it,” she adds quickly at his growing, cocky grin.
“I’m going to wear the real one, obviously, but promise you won’t stop making me these, either?”
Kissing her softly, he brushes a hand down her face.
“I promise. You’ve got a lifetime of those. Maybe you can even make me one for the wedding.”
A bright laugh escapes her. Time seems to have slowed down around them, letting these beautiful moments hang on forever, and she moves even closer to him. Her breath is hot on his skin.
no yeah shemar on instagram.... pr team where are you. the initial video to save the show and get a s7 was a lot in and of itself, but at least had a feasible end goal ig--to know you're going into the end and do it justice? but objectively, the show's been reaching a natural conclusion and it would be so much better to end it while they're still kind of an on up. (the reply about money on the comment about lina was also insane.)
ARGHHH YOU GET IT!!!!! like oh. my. GOD someone get a hold of this man!!
i echo your sentiments on the s7 video exactly, like his intentions were so clear-cut and concise there!! that was a man pouring his heart out about his feelings on the project he’s given almost a decade of his life to being treated so cheaply by a huge studio who 100% knew better. but now?? it’s seeming less and less like he cares for swat as a project and a means of living for all the cast and crew, and instead like a guy who’s just making noise and stirring up shit in the viewerbase bc he can.
and like i’m just chatting shit here but like. i’m starting to feel all of this open criticism of the studio/showrunners is going to work against the show by way of getting picked up for more seasons. in my mind, a network like nbc/streamer like paramount or netflix would want to me MAD to pick it up now when they’ve seen what kind of public recoil they’d get if they didn’t go beyond a hypothetical season 8!! between the cast and writers and the audience (some of the viewers i’ve come across are feral, i’m sorry), the headache and tarring of their image in the media would be debatably worth it for the revenue left after such an already costly production. idk, it’s just all so strange a set of circumstances for a situation that’s already wildly unstable!!!
and that lina comment??? what the fuck?? like yes, i understand it could’ve been (probably is) just the product of him using that comment and it’s sentiments as a jumping-off point to allude a little to the temperature behind the curtain - but the alternative??! that he’s trying to say money (either the studio wanting to pay her less/not up her pay given all the legwork she did in s5 or her leaving bc of pay) was behind her departure in a public. fucking. setting is genuinely bonkers.
!!!! i don't know if it's because he doesn't have anything lined up and he's worried about that, bc he seemed to make the jump from criminal minds to swat straight away (under the guise of "wanting to do something different" which is so funny bc it's just the same exact thing with more action + a little to the left). or if he’s just going through it in an unfortunately very public midlife crisis?
& agree! netflix or a streamer would maybe pick it up for like one season but there is literally no reason to? i know the showrunner has also said never say never, but you have a shortened s7. you knew going in that this would more than likely be the last hurrah. so the choice to spend it being wild on instagram instead of really just bringing it home with as much as you started with is super odd to me. I only really interact w the fandom here/fic sites (which is lovely), but cannot imagine what twitter is like considering his insta comments.
i'm also hoping he was just expressing a general statement about the money and it just happened to be on a comment that mentioned her, but that seems... pretty unlikely. they all seemed to still be chill after she left, so i don't understand the beef, esp. bc he (as aforementioned) left CM, on which he was beloved, to do something different, which is all that she (at least publicly) said she was doing. i wouldn't put it past the studio for there being money issues within her contract that were at least a factor, but to fully step on her statement years after the fact is crazy.
He’s on one knee, hands stretched out to her with a box, and he’s looking at her like hers is the only face he ever wants to see.
A mini-series of different proposal possibilities, inspired by 7x05.
Read on ao3 or ffn, or under the cut
The California sun beats down on Street and Chris as they reach the peak of Solstice Canyon, not yet as hot as it will be, but hot enough. Water from the different falls that once provided a cool reprieve on their neck and wrists has long dried and been replaced with sweat and the grit of dirt.
Chris looks as beautiful as ever to Street. Despite her being in front, her hand reached back for his at the start of the trail and she hasn’t let go except when she’s had to, to get over the rocky terrain. Her tan skin glows, and the tattoos over her arms and back, the newest addition of a small ‘26’ just above her wrist bone, are like a map to the future. Every time she glances back to make sure he’s still with her, the gold flecks in her eyes grow. He wants to live in them.
“You good?” She asks with a laugh as they finally reach the overlook. Wiping his brow with his freehand and chugging down water, he nods.
“Perfect.” Street confirms, hands on his knees. “You do this every Saturday morning?”
“Pretty much. First with Champ, then it was a nice change from the intensity of SWAT. I’m glad you finally got out here with me.”
“Me too,” he smiles, his heart rate coming down from the hike so he can appreciate the never-ending view of lush greens and blue sky. There’s a boulder to the side that Chris props herself on to take it all in. He slides off his backpack, eyeing the front pocket as his pulse picks up again, then takes a deep breath and joins her. She leans into him when he wraps his arm around her shoulder.
“This is beautiful,” Street murmurs, eyes locked on Chris. She rolls hers but is betrayed by the soft pink blush that paints over her cheeks. Sitting in the silence with nothing but the gentle breeze and sound of the other’s breathing, she finds his free hand and squeezes it.
They sit in the moment until a speck of sand gets caught in her throat and she takes her hand back to cover her cough. Rubbing easy circles on her back, Street leans over and grabs his water bottle to hand to her, his backpack coming with it.
“Ugh, thank you,” Chris says, turning to the side to finish clearing her throat.
Certain this might be his only opportunity, Street feels the world stop around him. The air stills, the rustling of the leaves stops, and the only thing he’s aware of is his own heartbeat, Chris next to him, and the box in his backpack. Fingers moving of their own volition, he gets the front pocket unzipped and closes his hand around the small blue box.
His blood rushes in his ears as his knee hits the hard, dusty ground, and he dries his palms on his shorts before getting a good hold on the box and opening it. The semicircle of diamonds sparkles in the high sunlight and the gold half shines with a bright reflection of whatever catches it. He sees his hands shaking ever so slightly but makes no effort to still them. His pupils dilate the longer he waits for her to turn around.
After coughing for what feels like an eternity, Chris opens the water bottle and finishes it. Her eyes close as she relishes how it slows her back down and cuts through the heat. Shaking off the last of the attack, she wipes her eyes and the water on her chin, and turns to give Street the bottle back.
“Than—”
“Will you marry me?”
Chris freezes. Street’s voice hits her, but the words don’t process as she takes in the scene in front of her. He’s on one knee, hands stretched out to her with a box, and he’s looking at her like hers is the only face he ever wants to see. She knows her mouth is hanging open and her eyes are wide, stunned to silence in a way she’s never been before. Slowly, the steadiness of her heart beat resonates through the rest of her as it all clicks into place how right this feels.
Her eyes trace back up his face, his bottom lip now between his teeth as the nerves that were a spark before grow into a wild blaze. He wants to tell her to say something, or to repeat himself in case she didn’t hear him, but he doesn’t have to as she stands and takes a step towards him, pushed on by some innate knowing, reaching out until their hands brush. It sends the same kind of want through him that it did on the first day they met.
“Yes,” Chris says, bringing the world back to its axis for both of them. A bird squawks, and she brings a hand up to block her eyes from the sun as he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her left ring finger. Her hand takes his before he can drop it as he tucks the box back into his shorts pocket. Standing, Street lets every sensation from the smell of the breeze to the itchiness of tiny gravel stuck in his knee sink in, not wanting to forget a thing.
With her hand, he pulls her in easily and wraps his arms around her back, meeting their lips as her feet leave the ground. She laughs against his lips until he sets her down. Pulling back, arms loose around his neck, she matches his wide smile and gazes at the ring over his shoulder.
“I love you,” she repeats as their eyes meet again. Street manages to smile even bigger as his heart slows back down and all the tension drains from his body.
“I love you so much.”
He kisses her again and then a third time, Chris just as eager. She brings her newly-adorned hand to cradle his face as he deepens the kiss and moans.
They’re breathless when they part, and tears rush to Street’s eyes when he sees the ones lining her lash line. She hugs him as close as she physically can and nuzzles into his neck. His heart is beating like a drum in his chest, strong and steady.
“That’s why you agreed to hike with me?” Chris teases, needing a lightness to cut through the moment and recenter them. His dimples get deeper and he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, any air of his usual cockiness traded for pure emotion.
“It is.” He chuckles softly. “It’s special to you, now it’s special to us.”
Street looking out over the horizon once more, she keeps her gaze locked on his profile.
“Got a hell of a view.” She murmurs, her breath hot on his skin. A shiver runs through him, and he turns back to her, stepping behind her so he can wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her cheek. His chin finds her shoulder, and he grins.
don’t mind me, just resurfacing after 17 years in the witness protection program to take up residence in all the quiet supportive heart-eye moments between jim street and chris alonso that we don’t actually get to see on the show
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