Work Text:
How'd your day go?
I got married.
Their briefcases discarded on the floor, he sweeps her up in a bridal carry and pretty much any other coherent thought besides him is swept up with that. Even when he tells her about his new client and the cartel. It’s something she simply compartmentalizes away for later discussion, takes his face in her hands and kisses him like he just told her something far more exciting.
It’s easy to forget everything after that, get lost in the thrill of his touches that somehow feel exhilaratingly brand new but also intimately familiar. It’s always been the case; there’s that comfort of knowing what to expect but still an element of surprise that makes her want him, more each time. And he never disappoints.
Nightfall is long gone by the time they try to doze off, but the shared elation and the afterglow keep them awake.
“So… Let’s just say that if the circumstances of our… arrangement, had been just a little bit different… What do you think our vows would’ve been like?”
Despite having just been as close to him as is physically possible, his words bring forth a flutter in her heart as if he’d kissed her for the first time, unspoken things discussed through a single glance between them. As if their marriage was a secret, something to talk about only like this, in the low light of the New Mexico night.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it,” she says to the ceiling, not even close to honest and wonders if he notices she’s breaking their rule of not keeping things from each other. “Have you?”
“Well, not a whole lot. But, if you want to, I could give it a go, try freestyling it a little bit. A mock vow for the makeshift audience, if you will.” He draws out the final words but continues before she has a chance, “But only if you do it too.”
She chuckles, her giddiness certainly noticeable now, either slightly embarrassing or a very effective tool in teasing him. They’re like kids out on the playground, daring one another. “Fine, I’ll do it. But you’re going first.”
He sits up on the bed, suddenly hesitating, toying with the hem of his shirt, the confidence rushing out of him and there’s a certain tenderness, albeit a lost one in his expression as he looks at her, like he’d got caught looking at her when he shouldn't have. For a moment she thinks he actually hadn’t thought about it at all, that it hadn’t crossed his mind like it crossed hers, until he clears his throat and starts:
“Kim, how long has it been now that we’ve known each other? Almost a decade now at least, right? I think I’ve lost count. Either way,” he says, “A lot has happened in that time. Before that, too. You know about the things I’ve done, all the ways I’ve fucked up, so I don’t think I’ll ever quite understand why you’ve stuck with me for this whole time. But hey, I’m not complaining!”
He tries to keep it light but can’t quite manage it, as if he’d just truly understood what he signed up to do and now he’s doing his best to toe that fine line between honesty and modesty. She sits up too, as the realization strikes her. She can’t hold anything back. Not when he bares himself at her like this.
“You helped me out, more times than I had any right to be helped. I will always be grateful for that. I will always love you for that, but also just because… You’re you. You’re Kim Wexler. How… How could I not love you?”
He says the words as if there truly couldn’t even be any other possibilities. He takes a deep breath, smiling now, and she wishes she could pause this moment, that look on his face, open and… joyful. “So, yeah. We’ve known each other for a while. And pretty much most of that time I’ve been crazy about you. If you allow me, I’ll keep that going for the next decade, and the one after…”
She interrupts him by grabbing his shirt and kissing him senseless.
“I wasn’t finished…” he grumbles between kisses, but his heart isn’t in it like it was a second ago.
”The judge would’ve also definitely stopped you at that point,” she points out, pulling back. ”Besides, it’s–”
“He wouldn’t have!” he exclaims in mock aggrievance. “At least the way you did, I hope. Wouldn’t want to give the missus the wrong impression.”
She slaps his chest playfully, laughing along with him. It’s the late hour, the simple delight of being with him, the events of today that finally catch up to her and only then does she truly know what she wants to say; everything else she planned out in her head long gone. The instinct to swallow it all down won't leave her, but then she looks at him and the tender gaze is there, and even if she didn’t stick to the rule before, she will now.
“Well, Jimmy. A lot has happened, you’re right about that. But if I’m honest, I mostly just remember the good things. But I still wouldn’t change any of it. The times we won, or the times we didn’t. Do you know why?”
She doesn’t expect an answer but he shakes his head either way.
“Because it was with you . Getting to go along with your ideas, or making you work with mine. You’re good company. I like being around you. Hell, I’m definitely not bored with you. And even if I was, I wouldn’t care, because it’d be you I’d be bored with, and I’d love it anyway. I’d love you any way. That’s all there is to it.”
He is quiet for a while. The dim light outside catches on to the tear in the corner of his eye that he blinks away. “Simple, but effective. Definitely a tearjerker. I like it.”
This marriage… it’s not just a legal arrangement. That much she knows. Maybe one day she’ll say it out loud, too.
“Should I have taken your last name?”
“Jimmy…”
“Or maybe hyphenated it? Wexler-McGill has always had a nice ring to me.”