Fandom: BLoSC
Rating: G
Pairing: Buzz/Mira
For:
cherrygirlart!Disclaimer: They are owned by Disney/Pixar; I make no money.
Notes: Half of a trade (go read and comment on hers here!); a little, mildly introspective piece from Mira's POV. One Hundred Days timeline, because I'm not sure I could write anything else anymore.
The princess was stunningly beautiful; she moved with fluid grace, her skirts flowing around her. Her hair was piled up in an elaborate, elegant manner, pinned with pearls. But for as much as her dress sparkled, her eyes sparkled more.
The prince watched her with a look of devotion, broad shoulders seeming to fit almost uncomfortably in the simple suit. His shoes were shined, his face was glowing under the lights of the ballroom. He stepped forward with a small smile, bowing, offering his hand. She rested her hand in his upturned palm.
They moved to the music, precise steps and breathtaking contrasts. The rest of the people watched, some with ill-concealed envy, others with 'happily ever after' written all over their faces. All were turned out in their best; the prince and the princess were celebrating their first anniversary after a rough first year. Many speculated on whether the marriage could last. But all watched.
"Do you miss it?" he asked, and she looked away from the celebration on the television, away from the prince and the princess and back to the man she married.
They stood in the doorway to the kitchen of a little suburban house; no music, no ballroom dancing, no elegant gowns. He was in shorts and a t-shirt. She was wearing a pair of old sweats. They had repeated this scene a hundred times.
She looked at him; the grin, the devotion, both far more weathered and tested and proven than the couple dancing on the television. Maybe the prince there would lay his life down for his princess, but she knew this man would. And she knew, too, that he would be here a lifetime and forever after that for her, more faithful than the sunrise.
He grinned wider when their eyes met, because he already knew the answer to his own question. "Mira?"
She took his face in both hands, gently; kissed him long and slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that had given up its giddiness for intimacy long since. Kissed him and then stepped closer and spoke against his cheek, quietly teasing, "You tell me, Buzz."
He wrapped both arms around her, nuzzling his face into her hair; his reply was muffled, but the joy of it sounded like a bell:
"I love you."
They had repeated this scene a hundred times.
Mira knew that they would repeat it a million more.
And nothing in the universe was better than where she was now.