Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Rings •|| MARJOREECE ||•

Prompt: Reece decides he wants the ring he proposes to Marjorie with to be special.

Reece never liked rings.

It wasn’t that he hated them or anything dramatic like that - it was just that, for most of his life, rings had meant things he didn’t want to think about. His father’s wedding ring, glinting coldly in the dim kitchen light. The way it would clink against glass when he raised it in a toast to empty victories and things Reece would rather forget.

But lately… he’d been thinking about them differently.

More specifically, about one particular ring he wanted to put on one particular woman’s hand.

And not just any ring. Not one from a shop window or a velvet box under harsh display lights. No. He wanted something that felt like her, like them - like everything they’d fought for and built from the wreckage of everything before.

So, naturally, in classic Reece Knight fashion, he signed up for a ring-making class without telling a soul.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

The studio was tucked between a bakery and a print shop, the kind of place you’d walk past without noticing unless you were looking for it. Inside, it smelled like metal shavings and coffee, with soft jazz playing from a speaker balanced precariously on a shelf.

The instructor was a middle-aged woman named Ruth with kind eyes and calloused fingers, who didn’t blink when Reece muttered something about “just wanting to make a ring for someone important.”

She just smiled. “Good reason as any,” she’d said. “Let’s get to work.”

Reece was terrible at it, at first.

The tools felt awkward in his hands. The silver wire refused to bend the way he wanted it to. He cut his finger on the saw within the first twenty minutes and refused to tell anyone when it bled through the tissue he’d wrapped around it.

But then he thought about her.
About Marjorie.

About the way she laughed when he did something stupid. The look in her eyes when he made her a cup of coffee without asking. The warmth of her hand in his when neither of them needed to say a word.

And he kept going.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

Weeks passed.

The others noticed, of course.

Winter asked where he kept disappearing to on Tuesday nights, and Reece waved him off with some nonsense about “working late.” (Which was a shit lie because everyone knows he was unemployed)

Mia made a joke about him “having a secret boyfriend” and Charlotte nearly choked on her wine.

Marjorie teased him once, casually, when he showed up smelling faintly of burnt metal and refused to explain.

“You leading a double life, Reece Knight?”

“Something like that,” he grinned, kissing her temple.

And he kept going.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

The night he finished it, Ruth laid a hand on his shoulder.

It wasn’t perfect. The band was a little uneven if you looked too closely. The texture wasn’t as smooth as the ones in the shop windows. But it was theirs. It was made of patience and frustration and stubbornness and every little memory that had led him to this moment.

“I think she’ll love it,” Ruth said softly.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

The box he put it in wasn’t anything fancy. Just a simple, navy velvet one. He tucked it in the inside pocket of his jacket and carried it around for three days before he worked up the courage.

And then, on a quiet Friday evening after dinner with the gang - after Carly had insisted on charades and Sorscha nearly sprained her wrist miming a giraffe - he pulled Marjorie aside.

Down by the old park bench near their street. The same one they used to sit at, years ago, when the world was heavier and the nights were colder.

“I, uh…”
Reece scrubbed a hand through his hair, nerves buzzing beneath his skin. “I don’t have a speech. Didn’t write anything down. Didn’t tell anyone this was happening. I just-”

She raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Reece Knight, if you’re about to tell me you bought a motorbike, I swear to God-”

He laughed, breath misting in the cool air.
“No. Nothing like that.”

He pulled out the box, the small weight of it feeling enormous in his palm.

“I made you something,” he said quietly. “And I want it to be yours. Always.”

Marjorie’s hand flew to her mouth as he opened the box.

The ring caught the light, uneven, imperfect, and utterly beautiful.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Reece dropped to one knee, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

“Marjorie Elise Van Gould… will you marry me?”

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind through the trees.

And then, with a tearful laugh, she grabbed his face and kissed him so hard he nearly lost his balance.

“Of course I will, you idiot.”

°•°•°--**--°•°•°

Later, she found out about the classes. About Ruth. About the cut on his finger and the Tuesday nights and the weeks of secret-keeping.

And she loved him even more for it.

Because in a world full of ready-made, store-bought, cookie-cutter things - he’d chosen to make something. For her. For them.

And it was perfect.

Just like this.

[A/N: Aight, I'm going to school now. 😭]