#please enjoy the most ooc mason i have ever written dsnajfkna

[lvllns]

Doing all this necessary research would be so much easier if what happened nearly three days ago wasn’t still floating around Sparrow’s mind like a balloon.

They’ve been distracted, obviously distracted. Enough that Nat has been accompanying them to the library to help with all the reading for this current case. Felix asked them about it the day after they got back, but they brushed him off. Assured him it was nothing bad or terrible or life ending, it was just...something. That they needed to wrap their head around.

Unfortunately, they still haven’t accomplished that.

The worst part, they think as they absently thumb at the cover of the book they’re supposed to be looking through, is that Mason and Ava were sent out on another recon mission yesterday, and it was painfully clear he didn’t want to leave. Not after spending the night together in the city for some ridiculous fucking gala put on by the Mayor at some incredibly fancy hotel. Staying in the city for any length of time is something Sparrow detests and avoids, but one night would be fine. Nothing would happen.

And nothing did happen.

Well, except…

Mason introduced himself, quietly and repeatedly, to people as Mason Kingston.

The first time Sparrow heard him say that, they almost dropped their water. Scrambling, blushing like mad, they snatched the bottle out of the air before it could hit the floor. Their pulse slammed against their ribs, their throat, their wrist. Loud, louder. Strong enough that he had looked at them, eyebrows knitted together in concern, but they had smiled and blown it off as nerves. There’s no way he didn’t know they were lying, he always knows, but blessedly he let it go.

“Bird?” Nat’s voice is soft as she speaks but that doesn’t stop Sparrow from jerking in their chair. “Are you okay?”

They rub their collarbone and shrug. “Yeah, fine. Why?”

“You haven’t turned a page in ten minutes.” Nat quirks a brow. “And I swapped out your book with another one an hour ago. You didn’t notice.”

Fuck.

“Ah, fuck.” Sparrow tilts their head back. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“Distracted?”

“Yeah,” they say sheepishly, looking to the left in an attempt to conceal their quickly reddening cheeks.

“Did something happen?” Nat clears her throat before continuing. “At the gala? With Mason?”

There’s a slight edge to Nat’s voice, one that shows up when she thinks Mason’s gone and done something absolutely moronic like the bakery incident again. They find themself hard pressed to be annoyed about the protective older sister role Nat seems to have filled over the last few years. Luckily, for Mason more than anyone else, Nat’s only taken this tone a handful of times now. 

Sparrow covers their mouth with their hand and shakes their head. “Nothing bad, I promise.” They pause, licking their lips before turning to look at Nat, closing the book gently. “He just...he kept introducing himself with...with my last name and I don’t…” A long, loud groan escapes them as they fall back against the sofa, tossing an arm over their eyes. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The room goes quiet for a moment. And then Nat says, “In...in a good way?”

“Yes,” Sparrow says. They blow out a breath. Drop their arm so they can look at Nat once more. “I had been so content to just be alone and then all of you blew in, and Mason came in like a fucking storm.” Leaning forward, they rest their elbows on their knees. “I’m happy, Nat, happier than I’ve ever been but hearing him say that…” A small shrug.

Nat’s eyes go soft and she steps around the messy coffee table to sit next to Sparrow. She slings an arm around their shoulder. Tugs them closer until they’re leaning against her, and fuck, Sparrow always forgets how solid she is until they’re hugging. “He comes back tomorrow, doesn’t he?”

Sparrow swallows. “Yeah, and I...I need to either decide to let it go or talk to him about it and I…” A sharp laugh, biting and a little caustic. “I can’t just ask him to marry me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not something we’ve ever talked about,” they say. “I’ve never cared, never wanted it, but fuck if I don’t want it now.”

“So talk to him about it then.”

They frown. “Can you just let me wallow?” Sparrow looks up at her. Finds Nat grinning, eyes glittering, and they shove her shoulder playfully. “Nat,” they whine, “stop being responsible and making sense, let me whine and complain in peace.”

Nat laughs, the sound vibrating through her chest, and Sparrow drops their head onto her shoulder. They feel her move, lifting a hand to pat the top of their head before settling for playing with their hair. The library is warm, far enough from the rest of the warehouse that it’s quiet, and Sparrow feels themself start to drift when Nat turns her head to look at the door. There isn’t enough time to ask what she’s looking at before they hear the heavy footsteps that they know so well.

“Your heart,” Nat says with a snort, “just went haywire.”

Sparrow opens their mouth to snark back but the door swings open, knocking into the wall with a bang that makes Nat sigh.

Mason’s eyes dart around until they land on Sparrow, and he smiles. Honest, wide, joyful. His eyes light up, storm grey going silver, and he all but bounds across the room. Sparrow hops to their feet after untangling from Nat. Warm hands find their hips, palms scraping against their skin as Mason scoops them up, pulling them into a tight hug. They wrap their arms around his neck, thighs bracketing his waist as they cling to him.

“You’re back early,” they say, speaking the words against his throat. Against the place that always smells like sandalwood and smoke.

A kiss to their temple before he rests his cheek against their head. “We finished up early and I convinced Ava to let me drive back tonight.” He moves, hands slipping up over their ribs, and Sparrow drops back down to the ground with a huff. Mason rolls his eyes, still smiling, and turns to Nat. “Ava’ll be back tomorrow.”

Nat looks between the two of them and nods. “Good to know.” She turns to Sparrow, lifting a brow. “I think we’re done for the day, considering what we talked about.”

Sparrow sees Mason’s head tilt out of the corner of their eye and they try to beat back the blush they can feel flooding their cheeks. Nat leaves, shutting the door with a wince when she sees the crack in the frame, and Mason shrugs.

“Buy a better fucking door,” he mumbles.

Sparrow snorts. Wraps their arms around his waist and drops their head to his chest with a soft sigh. “I missed you.”

They feel him tense a little before his palms slide under their shirt to rest on their hips. “You’re not usually this clingy,” he says, thumbs drawing small circles on their skin. “Something wrong?”

It only takes a second for them to hesitate, to pull their bottom lip into their mouth, but he catches it. Of course he does, they’d be shocked if he didn’t notice. Mason pushes them away, just a couple steps, until he can reach out and take their chin in hand to tip their face up.

“Bird?”

And oh, he sounds worried.

“Shit, sorry, no, nothing is wrong, I promise,” they say, tilting their head into his touch. “It’s...I…” His hand moves to cup their face, thumb sweeping over their cheek, and he still looks so concerned that Sparrow breaks. “At the gala, you...you kept introducing yourself as Mason Kingston.”

His eyes go wide and he steps back. Far enough that they’re no longer touching, the air between them turning cold.

“I—Shit, fuck, sorry I should have—”

“Mase, sunshine,” they say, cutting him off before he can spiral any further. He looks at them, shoulders tense and hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans like he does when his desire to touch them overwhelms. “It’s fine, I didn’t mind. Don’t mind.” Sparrow takes a deep breath and makes themself look at him. “It got me thinking, is all.”

He still looks wary, nervous, but he slips one hand from a pocket and reaches for them. They tangle their fingers with his, squeezing gently. Mason looks down at their hands, and then back up to meet their gaze. Wheels turn in his head and they can see the moment it begins to click into place, his mouth falling open for a split second before he snaps it shut.

“You—Songbird, Sparrow,” he says, voice low and rough, “do me a favor and just, spell it out. So I know exactly—”

“You wanna get married, cariad?”

They watch him blink. Blink again. His grip goes almost painfully tight before he drops their hand to rake his fingers through his hair and laugh. A true, honest laugh, and Sparrow catches every single emotion that plays over his face before he’s grabbing their face in his hands and kissing them. Fangs scrape their bottom lip but they hardly notice as he swipes his tongue to soothe the sting. Mason’s hands drop to their thighs as he bends down a little. Sparrow hops as he stands, and he holds them against him once more, their chests pressed together. They thread their fingers through his hair, using the new angle to take control of the kiss until they have to break away, panting.

“Is that a yes?” they ask, breath washing over his throat.

Mason chuckles. “It is, yeah.”

Sparrow buries their face against his neck. Presses as close as they can, arms tight around his shoulders and legs squeezing his waist.

“Are you, sweetheart, are you crying?”

His grip shifts and they whine. “Do not put me down Mason.” They can feel how hard he rolls his eyes but his hands move back to their thighs with a soft squeeze.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“...Maybe.”

A kiss to the side of their head and then, “I have something for you.”

That’s enough for them to pry themself away just enough to look at him. Mason’s eyes go soft, one hand reaching up to swipe tears off their cheek. They smile, watery as it is, and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Can I put you down now?”

Sparrow sighs. “Fine.”

He drops them abruptly. They squawk as they hit the sofa, mouth falling open. Mason snorts. Darts away as they hop to their feet and make to grab his arm.

“Do you want your present or not, songbird?” He quirks a brow. Sparrow stills, head tilting and eyes narrowing. “Behave,” Mason says, voice dropping.

They swallow hard enough their throat clicks.

He grins wide enough to flash his fangs. “There we go.”

“This feels less like you got me a present and more like you want something.”

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you get engaged? Immediately go fuck?”

“We’re not fucking in the library.”

Mason chuckles. “Not after last time.”

“Mason,” Sparrow chides even as they try to stop smiling.

His eyes are bright as he reaches into his jacket. It takes a second, a second where he fumbles around for a pocket, and then he pauses. Waits a moment to hold his closed fist against his chest right over his heart, expression going painfully soft.

“I’ve had this for about a week,” he says, voice low, as if speaking any louder will shatter the moment. “The gala was...me trying to figure something out, and I was going to bring up maybe taking this further before giving this to you but, well,” Mason laughs quietly, “you kind of beat me to it.”

They open their mouth to say something, anything after that, but he lowers his hand. Reveals a small, black box that fits neatly in his palm. Sparrow reaches for it, getting halfway before they stop, a little unsure about if they should take it or not. They glance up at him, and he nods.

“It’s yours, songbird, take it.”

“Fucks sake,” they murmur.

They gingerly take the box from his hand as he smirks impishly at them. A deep breath, a second one, and then they flip the top open.

“Oh,” they say quietly. “Oh, Mason.”

It’s a simple rose gold band, plain with no stones. Smooth and simple and perfect. Sparrow knows they’re crying again but they don’t care, not now. Shaky hands take the ring from the box, and they laugh wetly when they catch a glimpse of the engraving on the inside. There’s a tiny heart next to a tiny sun. They look up, eyes wide, and find Mason looking the most nervous and bashful they’ve ever seen him.

“You impossible, wonderful person,” they whisper. “It’s perfect.”

Mason lets out a breath, a rush of air, and all his muscles relax, the tension leaving his body. “Felix insisted it was too plain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m gonna buy you a big ass fucking diamond.” Sparrow snorts. Mason startles. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t but you’re not, you know, that’s not you.”

“I got it, sunshine.” They turn the ring over in their hand. “No, you did perfect. This is perfect.”

Gently, he takes the ring from them. They hold their left hand out and he’s so careful when he slides the ring onto their finger. It settles beneath the second knuckle, snug at the base of their finger, and neither of them move. Or speak. Or do anything for what feels like hours. His thumb runs over the metal a few times.

“Is it rose gold because vampires can’t touch si—”

“I will take this back,” he says, tapping the ring.

Sparrow laughs, high and bright and happy, before swaying forward. They wrap their arms around his neck. Rock up onto their toes to kiss him properly.

“You think anyone will care if we take the weekend off?” they ask, lips brushing his.

Mason hums, hands stroking up and down their spine. “I doubt it.” He cocks his head for a moment. “We can go sign all the papers tomorrow, if you want.”

“Wait, that fast?” Sparrow blinks. “It’d take a couple days even for a courthouse here.”

“It’s Agency paperwork and bullshit.” He shrugs. “Vampire spouse, songbird, the rules are a little different.”

They roll their eyes, shoving his shoulder. He catches their hand, their left hand, and presses a kiss to their palm.

“Fuck it,” they say, breathless and wanting. “Yeah, let’s fuckin’ do it.”

Mason smiles.