Smut. Fluff. Happiness. Thanks to ofautumnleaves

for the idea of the shopping scene! Takes place before and during 'The Age of Reason.'

Richard was alone in his bed for the first time since Memorial Day. He felt a twinge of panic (it had all just been a dream, he was still in the woods) until he saw Clara sitting at the desk wrapped in her robe-no, she called it a kimono, he thought-, her pen flying across the page as she wrote. There were small signs of her all around the room. The additional pillow under his head, the quilt smashed at the end of the bed, the pile of books on the bedside table, even the slight orange smell on the sheets. Two of her dresses hung in the closet with his clothes. The dresser he had left empty now held some of her things. Clara still went back to the Ritz most days so she could write while he worked (and, he assumed, to keep up appearances), but at night she was either here when he came home or got back shortly after. He liked coming home, now, and he liked waking up.

Clara was deep into her work, so he decided he should start his own. He fished his undershirt and boxers from under the bed where they landed the night before, and also found the green one-piece lace and silk...thing Clara had worn to bed. He shifted when he realized she was only wearing her kimono. He dressed, choosing not one of his new suits but clothes he had brought from Wisconsin, but then hesitated to leave without telling her.

It took a couple of attempts to find his voice. "I'll. Mmm. Be right back," he told her while his hand hovered just over her shoulder. Clara's fingers reached up to brush his, but she didn't stop writing. When he returned he set her coffee (light tan instead of the black of his own) and a bacon roll next to her left hand.

"Thank you," she murmured and reached for the coffee.

Usually, he ate standing at the dresser at the foot of the bed, but since Clara was so lost in her work he sat on the edge of the bed and ate his breakfast before he went outside.

It was the smell that brought her back to reality. Sweet but acrid, it always smelled like summer to her. No, she thought, rubbing her right hand with her left in an attempt to stop the writer's cramp, it smelled like the color green. She looked around the room as she stood up. The bed was made, the step-in she'd worn the night before neatly folded on top, but she had no idea where Richard was.

The slight whirring sound, which would come near and then grow distant, made her pull her kimono close and open the door. Richard was cutting the grass. The masked side of his face was turned towards the door. She leaned against the door frame and watched him. He was dressed in the tan pants and collarless shirt he wore the day she met him in Chicago. The first time she'd seen him in a collared shirt and tie, she remembered, was when he picked up her from her bridal luncheon (a slight shudder went down her spine at the thought). That red tie was still one of her favorites, but when he stopped wearing them she'd missed seeing him in the collarless shirts.

Even though Clara knew nothing about cutting grass, she could perceive the care he was taking in making his lines perfectly straight. She was growing ever more familiar with the care and precision Richard brought to any task where he made use of his hands. Her heart sped up a little in her chest. When he turned at the end of the yard he saw her and she smiled and waved. She knew if she stood and watched him she'd make him nervous so she went back inside.

The mask itched terribly, and he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. Clara must be done writing, he thought. He would shower, and then he should take her out since he had the whole day off. A moving picture, something, even if they had to drive a town or two over. It wasn't right to just entrap her in his room.

When the door opened her body was almost humming with anticipation. She handed him a damp towel and a glass of water as he came in, but it took all her self control to step back and let him have a moment of privacy to drink and wipe his face.

Clara's small gestures of caring always made him feel like he was coming undone. Even when she had just stood in the door and waved at him, he thought things were too good. He set the mask on mask on the desk so he could wipe his face and drink. As soon as he set the water and towel back down, he turned back towards her hesitantly. He was still getting used to being around her with the mask off in the daylight.

Suddenly, she moved. Before he could say anything Clara was pushing him back against the wall. The unexpected feeling of her tongue behind his ear sent him reeling.

His skin was slick under her tongue and tasted salty and like grass. Chlorophyll, she thought dazedly, half-remembering an old science lecture. She wanted more of that taste and her mouth started working its way across his throat as her hands pushed his suspenders off his shoulders, feeling the thin, crisp material of his shirt under her hands as she went.

"Mmm. Clara. I'm. Sweaty," he managed to get out.

"Yes," she murmured against his throat. She was busy unbuttoning his shirt, and shifted around him so one of her legs was between his and began rubbing her hip against him in earnest. She heard his breath hitch. His hand went to her waist but then dropped away just as fast. Clara looked up at him.

"I. Mmm. Was cutting. Grass," he said.

Clara smiled at him while pulling his shirt free from his pants. "I know. I saw." Even though the evidence that he was enjoying her attention was pressed against her, she could feel his confusion as well. "I grew up in a hotel. It's very exotic to me."

The shirt discarded, she pulled on his undershirt with one hand while her other hand palmed him through his trousers. His head dropped on top of hers, and his hand grabbed her side in response, but once more he let go immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"I need. A bath."

Clara smiled, untied her kimono, and let it slip to the floor. "What a marvelous idea. Let's go take one."

His mouth worked for a moment before the words would come out. "Together?"

For a moment, Clara lost her confidence and wished her kimono wasn't laying on the floor at her feet.

"Do you not want to?"

He swallowed. "No. Mmm. I want to."

Clara wasn't quite sure how they ended up back up on the bed. Her skin still felt like the remnants of an electrical storm was raging across it, and the rest of her felt like jelly. She wasn't sure any of her limbs would ever work again. Richard slipped an arm around her and she leaned against him with a content sigh. A nap, she thought, was the only thing in the world she wanted.

"I cut the grass. Mmm. Every other week."

"I'll make a note," Clara laughed. I'm happy, she thought.

Her hair was still wet and was loose. She always tied it up, he'd never really seen it down. He brushed it back from her face. The guilt was eating at him.

"Clara. I don't want." It was an effort to form the form the words. " To take. Advantage of you."

She chortled. "I'm fairly certain I was the one taking advantage."

His hand danced back and forth across her arm. "This isn't. The way. Ladies are supposed. To be treated."

Rolling over was difficult, because her body still wasn't completely recovered and the space between Richard's body and the wall was tight. She brushed her hand across his jaw after she managed it.

"I think under the circumstances of this damn feud we are doing the best we can." She refused to let her voice crack, although her own anxiety was nibbling away at the happy contentment of earlier. "But I more or less moved in without asking. If it was to fast, if..."

He closed his eye. He wanted to say it right. "I like. You being here. But I don't know." He swallowed several times. Clara waited. "Clara, I could never. Give you. What you have."

She smiled at him. "A life where I hear orgies outside my door? A life where I feel trapped? A life where I spend half my time forced to entertain people I despise?" She closed her eyes. "Marrying Darcy meant my life wouldn't materially change. But it also meant I lay in bed at night and cried at the thought of him touching me, of having to wake up to him. Whereas I was just thinking of how happy and content I am here, with you."

His arm tightened around her unconsciously.

"I love you, and I love this feeling of us being cocooned away from the world. But I know we will have to make everything official, if for no other reason than because I'd like to walk down the Boardwalk with you," the words came out of Clara in a rush as anxiety began dancing around her thoughts once more.

"End of. Summer?" Richard asked, after calculating a timeline.

"Do you think that will be enough time?"

He had the same sickening feeling he had whenever he let himself think about the coup. It was worse now that he knew how terrified Clara was about it. That would give them two and half months.

"Where . Should we live?"

"Here?"

Richard looked around. "Once you move. In your books. And clothes where. Would we fit?"

Clara laughed. "Oh, what no one knows is how funny you are. I won't need as many clothes once...well."

Richard made a noise she knew was a laugh.

"I just meant I doubt I'll need as many clothes for parties and meetings and the like."

"A kitchen would. Be good," he said thoughtfully.

"Something like Jimmy and Angela's old apartment would be nice, although I'll miss this place."

"You'll miss. The grass?"

They were distracted for a few minutes.

"Yes. A place with grass would be lovely," Clara said when they came back up for air. She was quiet for a moment. "A kitchen will be nice, too, but honestly I can only make coffee, scrambled eggs and canned soup. Well, and toast. If we get a toaster."

"You don't need. A toaster. To make toast."

"Yes, I've heard there are people capable of such alchemy. I'm just saying if you'd like me to make toast, we'll need a toaster."

He ran his hand down her arm. He wanted her to make toast.

"I can. Cook."

"Really? Good to know, it will keep us from starving." She sighed. " Once we get a stove I'll get a cookbook and I'm sure I'll learn. I've just never had the chance. Father doesn't like the smell of cooking food in the suite, and in New York I worked so much that Angela did all the cooking. Plus, she was better at it." Clara was quiet for a moment. She wanted the next part, the two of them alone together in some small apartment, but she knew they both wanted more, too.

"I want us to have years where its just us. So we can have adventures and spend days like this, but eventually...is there anything else you want to do?"

He looked down shyly. He knew what she was asking."Before the war. I worked. At the hardware store. I always thought. I'd like to own. One."

"Oh, you are so meticulous. I could see you being good at it."

"We could. Put a desk. In the storeroom. For you to write."

Clara leaned her head against his shoulder. It sounded almost like a fairy tale. Just...a normal life. Walking to work together. Writing while Richard...did whatever people did at a hardware store (Clara wasn't certain she'd ever been in one, but thought it probably required keeping lots of small things organized).

"Well, we should definitely save our money for a hardware store and a house."

"I want to. Build us. A House," he said. "Can I show. You?"

She nodded, confused. Richard pulled away and went to remove something out of the desk. It was a magazine of some sort, and Clara could see it was well-read. Clara sat up against the headboard. She saw a picture of a large white house with a red roof and dark shutters and a long stone path and fountain. In white text it was titled 'Honor Bilt Modern Homes' and on the bottom was the Sears and Roebuck logo. Richard flipped through the pages knowingly, but she saw the penciled calculations written in the margins and hand drawn sketches on some of the pages.

"The houses. Come ready to assemble. But we can make. Modifications."

"I've read about them. There was an article in the The Philadelphia Record saying Sears was opening a sales office in Philly where you can walk through some of the floor plans."

Of course it had to be in Philadelphia, he thought. "We should. Go. Someday," he answered, but Clara was to busy looking through the catalog to notice the catch in his voice.

"I love this one," Clara said when she saw the Hathaway, a small two story white house with a porch and window boxes.

It was one of the simplest houses in the book. He wondered why Clara liked that one. "Why?"

She smiled uncertainly. "It's silly, I suppose. After we moved into the Ritz and I'd go visit my friends, the ones who lived in two story houses with porches? Those seemed like real homes for real families, you know? And window boxes I just like."

He rubbed her hand for a moment, and then flipped further into the book. "I think the Hathaway. Is to small. If. Mmm. We want..." He couldn't bring himself to say if they wanted children, so he just flipped through the book until he found the Americus.

"This is. A bigger version. Of the Hathaway."

Clara nodded,afraid to speak. She curled into his side as Richard explained he could build columned bookcases to divide the living room from the dining room and told her the different choices they had for setting up the kitchen.

"Clara just called. She's held up at a League of Women Voters meeting, but she'll be here in an hour or so," Angela told Jimmy and Richard as they walked through the front door.

"Don't we need to leave to make curtain?" Jimmy asked.

"Where you able to get tickets to Nobody's Money?"

"I did, but first week of tryouts is always rough, Ange."

"It's okay, I just want to laugh and it's the only farce currently running."

Jimmy smirked, because if Clara was here he knew she would say something like 'oh, that's hardly the only farce running in Atlantic City at the moment.'

"Richard, will you be okay with Tommy until Clara gets here?" Angela asked.

Tommy was playing in the sunroom, and Richard remembered the horror that happened last time he tried playing with the boy. He did have something he'd like to do, though. "I need. To go to Blatt's. And pick something up. Is it okay. If I take Tommy?"

Angela nodded. She'd feel better if Richard had something concrete to do with Tommy until Clara arrived. "Of course."

"You aren't worried?" Jimmy asked when Richard loaded Tommy into his car.

"About Richard? No, he's so much better."

Richard regarded the little boy next to him seriously. "Can you. Keep a. Secret?" he asked.

Tommy smiled up at him. "Yes. Me and Mema have lots."

Richard nodded. "We are going. to Blatt's. To buy. Clara a present. But you. Can't tell anyone."

"When Clara takes me to Blatt's we get cookies at the bakery."

"We can get. Cookies."

"Can I get ice cream for being a good secret keeper?" Tommy asked.

"Fine. You can. Get ice cream."

The jewelry counter at Blatt's looked like a very serious place and was quite busy. Richard knew it was foolish, but he was reassured by Tommy's small hand in his own.

"What are we going to get Clara?" Tommy asked.

"Mmm. A ring," Richard managed to say.

Richard found the rings and then was stymied by the amount of choices. He could see the large diamond ring she wore, the one Blaine gave her, when they met. She'd hated it. She complained it caught on everything and was heavy.

He wouldn't be able to afford a ring like that, anyway. But he wanted her to have something she'd like.

"I like this one," Tommy said, pointing to a ring even larger than Clara's first engagement ring.

"Mmm. Tommy, that ring. Is more money. Than I have. It also. Is bigger than. Clara's finger." He could see Tommy had his father's taste. Suddenly Richard wished he'd asked Angela to go shopping with him.

"Clara likes green," Tommy said.

Richard nodded. Clara did wear a lot of green, and a lot of blue.

"May I help you gentleman?" A man wearing a white carnation asked them. Richard noticed that the man startled when Richard looked up.

"We're here to buy Clara a ring. She likes green. It's a secret. Richard don't have much money. Her fingers are little," Tommy announced.

"Tommy," Richard said warningly. "I want. To buy," he tried to control his mouth twitch and just say it but he couldn't. "An engagement ring. She doesn't like. Only diamonds."

"She likes green," Tommy repeated.

The jeweler took in the duo. He had worked in Atlantic City a long time; a disfigured man and a little boy looking to buy a green engagement ring? He could do that.

He put together a tray of rings and brought it out.

Tommy pointed to an insanely large emerald, but Richard saw it at once. It was an oval stone that was a dark blueish-green. It looked like the color of the ocean. On either side were two small square diamonds set in a trapezoid shaped setting.

"How much?" he managed to say. The salesman told him a number. The ring was less than the Model-T, although not by a lot.

"Do you know what ring size the young lady takes?"

Richard didn't know they came numbered like shoes. He opened his wallet and took out a small piece of paper. "I. Mmm. Traced the ring. She wears. On her right hand."

The man took the paper and Richard's money, and then returned with a small velvet box. For a moment Richard panicked. What was he doing? He was being ridiculous. Clara was never going to marry him. What was he going to do, sit in Nucky's hallway and then walking into his office ask him for Clara's hand?

"You should get ribbon," Tommy said. "And then get me cookies."

"Ribbon?" Richard asked, looking down at him.

"Mommy always puts ribbons on presents."

Ribbon. He could do that. He closed his eye for a moment, thinking of Clara curled against him as they talked about what kind of apartment, what kind of life, what kind of house they should have. She said she wanted a life with him. He put the box in his pocket.

"Tommy. We need to buy. One more thing. For Clara."

Clara was surprised that the beach house was empty when she arrived. She found a note saying Richard had taken Tommy shopping. I'm sorry I missed that, she thought.

A few minutes later Tommy and Richard came in.

"We have cookies!" Tommy announced.

"It looks like you've already had some, and ice cream as well," Clara said, leaning down to look at Tommy's face. "Where did you two go?"

"Blatts to buy you a surprise," Tommy said.

Richard closed his eye and prayed. Proposing at Jimmy's house while Clara tried to wipe Tommy's face was not what he had in mind. He didn't actually have a plan, yet, but it certainly wasn't this.

"We bought a toaster," Tommy finished, and Richard swore the kid smirked up at him in a perfect imitation of Jimmy's smirk.

Clara blinked and smoothed her skirt. "Go wash your face. Call out if you need help." She watched until Tommy started up the stairs, then she turned and kissed Richard hard around the mask.