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Harry's never considered himself much of a gambling man, so when it's decided that the team's next job is going to be taking place in Las Vegas, he doesn't anticipate hanging around afterwards. There's not much there to tempt him into spending more time there than strictly necessary. Simply not his scene, and besides, if he truly wanted to spend time gambling then he could do that back home. There's no shortage of complexes or riverboat casinos in Louisiana, and there he doesn't have to deal with the desert heat. No, this job, in his opinion, is going to be an in and out, one and done, and straight back to New Orleans sort of trip.
And then Sophie suggests they stay in Vegas for a fun and romantic long weekend and suddenly Harry can't think of any place he'd like to be more.
He lets her take the lead in planning, because there is no one better at getting what they want, and Sophie will accept nothing but the best of the best. Which is why they end up with a high-rollers' suite in a top-of-the-line hotel dead center in the Vegas Strip, high above the bright lights and bustling crowds. It's a beautiful view, and with Sophie leading the way through their itinerary, Harry ends up liking the city more than he thought. Though Harry knows that he would enjoy any city, any place at all, if he got to experience it with her.
It's only on their last day there does Sophie end up convincing him to spend the entire night in the casino. They're staying in a high-roller suite, they might as well act like one at least once. Dressed to the nines, simple and elegant, they make a picture perfect image of professional gamblers with money to burn.
Harry helps Sophie put on her finishing touches, securing the clasp of the sapphire necklace she acquired the last time they were in Paris, and steps back to admire her. The sapphires stand out brilliantly against the ivory dress she's chosen for tonight, one that leaves her shoulders bare and ends mid thigh. He loves this dress. "You know," he says slowly, "we could always skip the card table and just stay up here tonight."
Sophie turns to face him, an amused look on her face. "As tempting as that offer is," she says, putting in the matching earrings for her necklace, "It seems a waste to travel all the way to Las Vegas and not spend time at the casino at least once." Finished with her appearance, she steps towards him, straightening his tie and smoothing his jacket. "Besides, if we lose too much we can always just steal it back," she says, pressing a short kiss to his lips. She takes his hand, their fingers lacing together, and head out the door.
It would be more apt to call it morning by the time they stumble back to their suite, tangled up in each other, giddy and drunk on something even stronger than the alcohol they'd consumed. Turns out it was a very good idea to head down to the casino. It takes Harry a few tries to unlock their door, distracted as he is by Sophie's lips on his and the feeling of her hands on his chest. Once the door is open, Sophie enters first, and before he can follow she's turning around and reaching over the threshold of the suite, grabbing the loose ends of his undone bowtie to pull him into a kiss. Harry catches his balance and wraps his arms around her, backing her into the room and shutting the door firmly behind them.
Now that they're alone, the kisses get heavier, more desperate, hungrier, so preoccupied by each other that they lose their sense of spatial awareness until Sophie's back is against the wall. They're both a bit clumsier than usual, the alcohol slowing reaction times and releasing any inhibitions. Sophie begins pulling at his clothes, bits of his suit, once so immaculate, are discarded carelessly onto the floor. His tie, his jacket, his shirt, all of it strewn somewhere in the darkness of the room, crumpled and forgotten. His arms now around her, he starts working the zipper of her dress down. Sliding the garment slowly down her body, his lips follow along every inch of newly exposed skin, down her neck, her shoulders, her chest, relishing in every breathy moan that escapes her lips.
Her dress puddles at her feet, and his hands come to rest at her waist, pulling her closer, kissing her again, and again, and again. His hands slowly slide up her sides and back again, sending a shiver through her. He lets one hand trail lightly up her stomach and slowly down to dip below the waistband of her underwear, two fingers slipping inside her.
He lets other hand slide up and under her bra, cupping her breast, thumb brushing against her nipple. Sophie lets out a moan, and Harry starts dragging his fingers in and out, slowly, teasingly. Her hips buck, following the rhythm he's set, her arms are wrapped around him and he can feel her nails scratch across his back. He kisses her again, trailing across her lips, her jaw, her neck, and he angles his hand so each thrust of his fingers drags across her clit.
Sophie's breath hitches and her nails dig into his skin, marking him. She shifts slightly, bringing her leg up and hooking it just below his knee, anchoring herself against him. Harry takes the moment to change gears, going faster, harder. Sophie's close, he knows, on the edge, and getting closer with every thrust. For a brief second he considers switching tactics, replacing his fingers with his mouth to get her to come, but he hesitates a second too long.
Sophie's head falls back against the wall, chest heaving, her nails digging deeper into his skin, breaths sharp little gasps. Harry continues to work her through it, trying to keep the same pace as her hips grind down onto him. She decides it's too slow for her, her hips moving faster, setting her own tempo, forcing him to match. She speeds up again, and again, and again until she's completely over the edge, her cry high pitched and breathless.
Sophie sighs contentedly, relaxing bonelessly between Harry and the wall, her arms moving from around his torso to around his neck. Harry removes his hands, smiling softly at Sophie's annoyed little whine when his hands are no longer in or on her, and wraps his arms around her. She pulls him into a kiss, slow and gentle, murmuring I love you against his lips.
They stay against the wall, intertwined in each other, all soft kisses and sweet nothings, for a while, just content to be near each other. Sophie is the one to break it up, carefully untangling herself from both her discarded dress on the floor and his arms. She takes a step or two back and reaches out with both arms, hands outstretched for his. He takes her hands and she grins, pulling him with her towards the bedroom. "I'm not done with you just yet, Mr. Wilson."
Harry wakes up slowly, the beginnings of a hangover digging their claws into his brain. The night before is mostly one big haze. He remembers he and Sophie went down to the casino, and he remembers that once they had started winning the staff started becoming generous with the pours of the complementary drinks. After that, mostly nothing, just bits and pieces, though the pieces he does remember are certainly ones he's glad to recall. He clearly can't handle his liquor like he used to. One of the drawbacks of getting older, he supposes. Hopefully this place has somewhere nearby he can get some Advil.
He looks down to where Sophie is still asleep next to him, her head resting on his chest, and gently brushes some of her hair back from her face. Well, he can wait a bit to try and find some Advil.
Probably. They are supposed to fly back to New Orleans at some point today. If they haven't already missed their flight. It's hard to judge time in here, the curtains mostly shut, just a sliver of sunlight peaking through where they don't quite close. Harry lifts his left hand to check the time on his watch, squinting when his hand moves at just the right angle to catch the gleam of light from the window and reflect it off the gold band on his finger and directly into his eyes.
It takes a second for the penny to drop, a consequence of the pounding in his head and preoccupation with their flight schedule. He moves his hand directly in front of his face, so close that he goes nearly cross-eyed staring at it. Even in the low light of this hotel room, there it is, a gold band on his left ring finger that is unmistakably a wedding ring. A wedding ring he doesn't recognize or remember putting on, and one that certainly wasn't there yesterday.
"Sophie," he says, voice slightly strangled, "Sophie, wake up."
Sophie shifts slightly, not opening her eyes. "What is it, darling?" she mumbles sleepily.
There's no other way to say it. "Uh, I think I'm married?"
At that, Sophie rolls over so she faces him, one eye cracked open and a half smile on her face. "Why Mr. Wilson, you should have said something sooner. Can't believe you let me spend a weekend with a married man," she teases.
Harry's lips twitch upwards into a smile briefly before falling back down. This isn't the time for jokes. "I'm serious, Sophie. Look." He holds up his left hand in front of her, watches her eyes widen slightly as she catches sight of the band.
Sophie's brows furrow slightly and she rolls onto her back, her head resting on his stomach. She lifts her left hand for her to inspect and lets out sigh that sounds like relief.
"Well," she says simply, "Unless we both managed to meet someone else in the less than five minutes we were apart at the casino, I think we got married last night."
Harry follows her gaze to her hand and sees that there, on her ring finger, is a matching gold band, and lets out a sigh of relief. There was a brief moment in time where he thought maybe he had somehow married someone else, and the idea of going on a Vegas-wide search for whichever stranger out of a million in this city was the one he accidentally married was probably one of the least appealing thoughts he'd ever entertained. So while this is absolutely, one hundred percent not the way he ever dreamed of marrying Sophie, he can't pretend he isn't happy it's her, for a lot of reasons.
But that happiness is quickly replaced by the reality of the situation. Sophie deserves a billion times more than a drunken quickie wedding on the Vegas Strip that neither one of them can remember. She should get to have whatever kind of wedding she wants, if he should be so lucky that she would want to marry him. "So… what do we do now?" he asks.
Sophie drops her hand and turns her head towards him. "Well, this is far from my first Vegas marriage. They can be annulled fairly easily," she says, her tone and expression unreadable.
Harry fights to keep his own face impartial. It's the right thing to do. They can get it annulled and pretend this never happened. No one else would ever need to know. That would be fine. It would be more than fine. He's more than happy to follow her lead, and if that's means they stay at the 'dating' stage forever then he's good with that, truly. What matters is that they're together and that they love each other. They don't need to be married to do that.
But he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn't felt just a little thrilled at the idea that, for even just a brief moment in time, she had wanted to marry him.
"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, we can do that," he says, working to keep his tone at least somewhat close to neutral. "I can look into it before our flight home this afternoon," he offers.
Sophie hums softly. She's silent for a moment, and then says, quietly, "Yes, we could look into it." She reaches out with her left hand and cradles his face, and he can feel the cool metal of the ring resting against his jaw. "Or… we could stay married"
Harry's brain sputters for a second, processing what she just said. He leans over towards slightly, her hand still on his face, and looks at her almost in disbelief. "Stay married?" he asks, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
She smiles, her thumb caressing his cheek. "Yes. If you want."
Harry is sure he now has the biggest, goofiest grin in the entire world on his face. Sophie Devereaux wants to stay married. "I do," he says, "Do you?"
Sophie laughs a little, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. "I do." She props herself up on her arms and says "And I think we should postpone our flight home," she says, a mischievous smile on her face, "Because right now I think that the only thing you should do is kiss the bride."
Harry moves forward, taking her in his arms. "I intend to do just that," he says.