The Lost Ships

Martha Smith

A/N: Okay, this one isn't very good, but I thought it would be cute and wanted to write it.

"Okay, okay. You'll be fine. Just keep it cool. It's not like she'd be mean enough to laugh at you!" Mickey reassured himself. Pulling up to Martha's house, he took a deep breath and walked up to the door.

The door opened almost before he knocked. There was Martha in a dark green dress, her hair pushed back by a headband of the same colour.

"Hey Mickey! I'm almost ready, just let me grab my purse."

"Okay," he replied lamely.

She grabbed her bag off the counter and ran back over to him. "Okay. Ready."

He led her out to his car. She sat in the passenger seat while he took the wheel. When they reach the restaurant (her favorite), he helped her out.

They walked inside and were seated at a table by a widow overlooking a river.

Night was falling. The last pale pink streaks withdrawing below the horizon.

They ate their dinner pleasantly, talking even after they had finished. When they reached a pause in their conversation, Mickey took a deep breath. Now was the time.

"Martha, I have something to ask you." He got out of his seat and knelt in front of her. "Martha Smith, will you marry me?"

She looked at him for a moment before she started laughing.

She was laughing at him. That wasn't like her.

"I'm sorry, it's just-" She dissolved into more laughter. He started at her, baffled.

"You said Martha 'Smith'!"

Mickey felt a wave of disparate go through him.

"I'm sorry-" he started.

"No, no. It's fine. Yes, I'll marry you. Of course I will!"

Relief rushed through him. "Really?!"

"Of course!" She took the ring he held (silver with a dark green stone) and, pulling him to his feet, pressed her lips to his.

Then, drawing back, she smiled. "But you'll never hear the end of this."

He groaned, but couldn't help smiling in spite of himself. Martha Smith. He liked how that sounded.