Conversations With The Moon (Bruno Mars One-Shots)

Marry You pt. 30

As you step out of your shoes, a familiar click-clack sound against floor tiles draws your attention. Bruno's rottweiler, Geronimo trots into the foyer and nuzzles his head against your leg. Your cheeks tug outward and you give him a good scratch behind the ears. You let your hand drag off him and notice a little smile playing on Bruno's lips. He tilts his head in the direction of the living room, and you go with him with G in toe. You walk through the open-plan living room/ kitchen area the over to the sliding glass doors that lead out to the backyard. You tug on Bruno's hand; he looks at you with a question etched in his raised brows.

"I gotta go to the bathroom," you say, "I'll be right out." he nods and heads out. You head to the half-bath in the hallway off the foyer, relieve yourself, wash your hands, and then peer into the mirror. Dark brown smudges hang like shadows, and the blush you've applied appears blotchy and separated. Sighing, you make quick work of removing the ruined makeup and reapplying a toned-down version of the look you were going for. Once you're satisfied, you apply some lip balm and a little gloss over your mauve pink lip stain.

When you return, you notice that the curtains have been tied aside. Geronimo is parked at the doors peering outside. As you make your way over, his ears perk up, and he glances at you. He stands and sniffs your feet as you arrive. You open the door, and he slips out ahead of you, trotting along the patio pavement before taking a left onto the grass. You follow, and as your feet settle into the grass, you breathe deeply. The scent of a savory blend of barbecue spices wafts toward you, and the sizzle of oil sounds like music to your empty stomach's metaphorical ears. A soft breeze blows through the trees, spreading the scent, letting the smell of dried palms and sunflowers into the mix. You let your shoulders fall, let your muscles continue to unravel as you roll you head from one side to the other. Your feet take you around a large tree on your left to the poolside eating area.

Off the side of the house, on a paved area, stands Bruno before a large grill with several aluminum trays set out in a row. Some are covered or partially covered with foil, while one is open. You step lightly and rise up on to the tips of your toes to try and peer inside, but you can't quite see.

He's barefoot too, wearing a white tank top and shorts.

He has his back to you, just out of the shade of a nearby tree with one hand on his hip and a spatula in the other, flipping and turning the food on the grill. Your eyes wander over him, lingering on every point the sunlight touches. It beams down over his broad, sun-kissed shoulders making it look like the light is coming from beneath his skin. You carefully walk around him and soon find spot just out of his line of sight that allows you to see his face. Here, the sunlight continues to highlight his features. It plays along the ridge of his brows behind his sunglasses, creating a shadow that displays the hollows in his cheeks that curve into his strong chin. You admire the way some of his curls peek out from beneath his white fitted snapback that still manage to hold their shape despite both compression and heat. The hat has Oakland, CA embroidered across the front in the same olive green as the shorts he's wearing. He's has on a rather large gold link chain along with his usual gold crucifix with his old wedding ring strung on beside it; and over his eyes are a large pair of aviator sunnies with orange lenses.

Admiring his figure, you watch his muscles shift and move beneath his skin, watch the way his forearm tenses as he uses tongs to grab and remove food from the grill. He stretches and readjusts his hat as you step forward for a closer look, but as you do, something crinkles beneath your feet. Bruno turns to you. He smirks and nods you in the direction; you join him by the grill. He sets the spatula aside and opens his arms to you. You walk into them, and he embraces you. He's warm, more than warm, and he smells of something deep and vaguely fruity but also like the food he's cooking. As he leans back, he puts his sunnies up on the brim of his hat and looks at you.