Fic: Reassurance

[idea_of_sarcasm]

Title: Reassurance
Author: idea_of_sarcasm
Pairing/Fandom: Barney/Valancy (Blue Castle)
Summary: Sometimes Barney wonders - if Valancy regrets the way they began.
Rating: All ages
Author's notes: Competely plotless schmoop written for my yuletide recipient (written at possibly the last minute) - posted here to keep all my fic together. Be sure to take your Metformin before reading :)



"Do you ever wish we'd done it differently?" Barney asked, as he came up behind Valancy and rested a hand on her shoulder while she looked over the Mistiwas, placing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck before straightening. She'd come to bed before him, and he couldn't resist when he saw her standing there in her nightgown for bed.

She turned to look at him in amusement, "What exactly? Is that some subtle hint that my Christmas present to you wasn't exactly what you wanted? I was happier to come back here for the holidays – I like Montreal, but..."

"It's not your blue castle." He gave a low laugh.

Letting her eyes close, Valancy rested against him rather than turning around, and he wrapped his arms around her. "No," she conceded, "but that doesn't mean I'm not happy there." There was still that hesitancy to tie him to her out of habit, but she was allowed to love him now, openly, and expecting it in return. In truth, he was home to her - what put that thrill uncurling in her belly. Coming back to herself, she continued, "So, what is it I'm wishing we had done differently?"

"Us." She heard the guarded hesitancy in his voice, at odds with how Barney usually was. His breath was light on her hair before he continued. "You know I love you, don't you Moonlight?"

"Yes," her answer was startled, "of course I do."

"It's just that you never got those things most women want," now he was sounding almost embarrassed. "I won't lie Moonlight, I can't. I didn't start out loving you. Liking yes, but not loving. And you never got all those things you deserved. A proposal, a real wedding." He'd compensated since, or at least tried to, but material things seemed to hold little appeal for her. Even the pearl necklace that had never left her neck before rarely appeared now that she knew it's monetary worth. He knew it didn't matter to her, but sometimes the other aspects didn't seem enough, and he didn't want to hide his wealth knowing it meant so little to her.

Valancy raised her eyebrows, though she knew he couldn't see them. "I didn't get a real wedding? Mother will have to take the entry out of the family bible then." Her eyes twinkling, she added mischievously, "Though I might continue to live in sin just so I can stay at Mistiwas with you."

"Valancy..." His tone was a warning, and she subsided easily because she knew even if he realized it was false, dependency for anything material was a sore spot with him.

She turned in his arms, looking up, a smile curving her lips. "What's brought this on? I got a wedding, but most importantly, I got a marriage. I don't regret how it came about." Maybe in her heart of hearts there was a little pang once in awhile that he hadn't known at first sight he loved her, but then again neither had she – it hadn't been this deep abiding feeling. She might not have got the proposal that every girl dreamed of, but she – Valancy Snaith by the grace of God – bucked tradition now, she didn't need it. "I got a life," she finished, rising on her toes to press her lips to his, remarkable chastely.

"It's not a sore spot?" he said dubiously. "You told me under no circumstances was I to cast it up to you that you proposed to me. I thought you might care just a tad."

"No," she admitted, "not particularly. Why would I?"

"Because you're a woman?" He smirked slightly despite the topic.

Valancy swatted him lightly, but she was smiling. "Yes, though I wouldn't have given myself such a complimentary label a year ago – I am indeed a woman. But I don't think that means anything here. I'm happy Barney, happy in all respects."

His hesitation was palpable. He knew he didn't give the words often – except in minor outbursts that didn't express all he meant to say. Was it odd that he wanted to compensate? To give to a girl who hadn't got it nearly her entire life the belief that she was cherished. That he wasn't in love with her just out of circumstance. Maybe all the pomp and circumstance didn't signify that, but it seemed like it might to her. It was something that had been bothering him lately, that maybe he hadn't truly given that to her.

"Besides," she was continuing, raising her eyebrows at him in that way that amused him because she'd gotten so comfortable she could chide him easily, "even if it did, we're a tad past that stage. What are you going to do, get down on one knee and slide the ring on my finger I already have? If you think that is going to solidify our marriage, you're welcome to go ahead, but for my part I don't care."

Barney's tone was dry, "Hardly." Her full throated laugh led to a roll of his eyes, even as he stepped back and slipped her arms from around his neck. She looked at him in confusion, a bit nervous she might have offended him.

Walking over to bedside stand he ruffled around in the drawer he pulled out, as Valancy shivered against the cold of the winter, walking over to sit on the bed with her feet tucked beneath her. Her eyes followed as he slipped aside a few papers, finally pulling out a single folded sheet with her name scrawled in his print across the front.

"What's this?" she asked, as she accepted it from his outstretched hand, waiting to unfold it as she looked up expectantly at Barney.

He looked oddly annoyed, for lack of a better term. Normally a man comfortable in his own skin, and tolerant with her, it was odd to see him as such. It reminded her of the days when she used to quote Jon Foster, having no idea she was talking to the man himself – and he seemed to have little tolerance for every syllable out of her mouth. "It's for you," he started stating the obvious, "it's a...letter."

At her look he felt the need to continue explaining. Barney cleared his throat gruffly, then added, "You tend to like the poetic nonsense I spout as Jon Foster, I thought this was the best way to give you...just read it girl – don't make me explain."

As much as he was against giving it to her, the words had come remarkably easy. It was like wandering throughout the woods of his island - theirs, he knew every stub, every flora, the smells that haunted his nose even lying in bed at night. Like that he knew every valley of her body, the kissable dents the tempted him, the sound of her voice and the feel of her skin under his hand. And the intangibles too – her love, her joy, her dreams. He knew them as well as he knew the back of his own hand, and the pattern of his island.

And they were enough to inspire the poetry.

Valancy for her part was bemused as she unfolded the paper, skimming quickly from her name at the top to his signature of affection at the end – then more slowly in between once she more fully understood the contents. The phrases jumped off the page like they had the first time she read a Jon Foster novel, but this time they were more dear. And more affirming than life changing.

She spoke the words aloud from one paragraph as she read them. "The curve of your arm can be only as nature intended, for it allures more than any false painted lips or more vulgar items can. But the physical appeal is as without artifice as the more important personal one. It's that which draws me to you. Not the light in your eyes when you're sprawled by the water as bright as the illuminating sun, not the sound of your voice – as suited for love-making as it may me; no none of that is the real appeal. The love would come if I was deaf and blind, and suffer none for it..."

Valancy's voice stuttered, breaking off as she read the rest silently. And when she was finished she lifted her eyes to his, resisting the urge to ask again what it was exactly he had handed her. And the blush was upon her cheeks, she was sure, rosy red – and warming her as much as any blanket could.

"Barney," was all she said, unable to formulate any other response.

"Just don't quote it to everyone under the sun like you do the books," he said, still standing in front of her.

Embarrassed still, Valancy pulled him down beside her – unable to stand not being face to face. "I didn't need this." But still, her fingers drifted over the paper, unable to let it go – knowing it would be reread till it was tattered, and relived in her mind till the day she died. Like every compliment he ever paid her, it was filed away as regrets such as the dust pile used to be.

"Consider it my proposal," he said, thinking of how exactly much he wanted to slide his hand along the hemline of her nightdress. But he resisted – for the moment. "If you can commit to be married to a sap who sees you as romantically as you do this place." And the reassurance he couldn't give her by any other means that she would accept.

Valancy didn't answer with words. She raised her hand to cup his cheek, leaning forward and simply resting hers against his other side for a moment, breathing in the feel of him – for she was sure such a thing was possible. It was her favourite moment with him, that feeling of closeness in the moment.

Letting her lips slide to his, her kiss a smile against his lips, she gave the reassurance the best way she knew how.



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