Galactic Magic

Caine woke from that horrid nightmare with a gasp, his gloved hands digging into the wood of his desk. His chest rose and fell rapidly with breaths he wasn't capable of taking. A few seconds passed, and he looked around his office with panicked, wide eyes. It wasn’t real. He was back with the rest of his friends in the circus. He wasn’t alone anymore.

His thoughts were brought back to the worst part of the dream. You lying on your side, unconscious. He tried calling out your name, but no sound came out. He crawled towards you until he was by your side. His hands shakily reached out to you to try to wake you up, but your eyes slid open just enough to see that you were looking at him. Caine's eyes softened when he saw you conscious enough to open your eyes. But after a moment, his teeth creased, your eyes were so far away. You weren't looking at him, but past him as though he weren't there at all.

He finally reached his hands out to each of your shoulders and shook them ever so slightly. His eyes scanned your face. Your expression was changing, your brows shifting towards each other in discomfort, and your mouth twisting up into a pained grimace. His hands grew more desperate to try to gain your attention. To try and help you. One hand shifted to the back of your head so that you weren't on the cold ground.

Your breath grew more frantic, hands scratching at the ground. Caine felt useless; no matter how many times he called your name, you didn't respond. Your hands reached up to his chest and pushed him away. He slid back a few feet from the force and looked at you leaning on your side. You had begun to curl into yourself when you suddenly changed. Instead of the comforting person he had come to care about, jagged dark edges replaced you. Dozens of multi colored eyes were littered over your huge form. You swayed back and forth, your elongated legs tripping over themselves. Caine's mouth hung open in shock. He felt the unfamiliar sting of tears blur his vision.

Caine shook his head to clear his mind of the nightmare. The darkness of his office wasn't helping calm his nerves. He thought of you once more, and an idea pushed its way into his mind. Maybe he could go to your room and just check on you, because that's what friends do! No other reason. Definitely.

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, popping onto the soft surface of your bed. His eyes searched through the darkness of your room until he was sure you were still soundly sleeping on your bed. Caine just stared at your calm figure under your blankets for a few minutes. This wasn't creepy! He was just concerned about a friend! Friends go into each other's rooms to stare at the other sleeping all the time!

He looked down from you to your blanket for a moment. Then stretched his hand over to your light switch next to your door. The light allowed the colors of your room to pop and calm Caine's nerves ever so slightly. His eyes snapped back up to you when he heard you groan and rub your eyes. He stuffed his hands into the hole where he sat criss-cross.

Your eyes opened to the ceiling and let them wander down until you saw the familiar set of dentures sitting on the end of your bed. What was he doing here in what you guessed was the middle of the night? A groan leaves you, and you rub your eyes to help them clear up. Caine looked back up to you from the bed, and you pushed yourself up to lean against your pillows to look at him. "Caine? What're you doing here?" You now just notice he's rocking back and forth. "Is something wrong?"

Caine stops his rocking and speaks, "Don't you worry your sleepy head, my dear friend!" You would recognize that forced tone anywhere, something definitely happened. You force yourself to sober up and pay as much attention to him as you can. His eyes are not as calm as they have been since he came back to the circus, telling by the little lines around his pupils. Before you can analyze him more, he continues talking, his tone the unusual calm you had not gotten used to. "Say you wouldn't be planning to abstract any time in the near future, would you? No specific reason."

What? What could've happened for him to ask that? "Uh, no, I don't think that's anywhere on my calendar. I can check again if you want." You tried lifting the mood, which got a painfully forced laugh from Caine. "That's what I like to hear! Well, uh, I'd better get going, you know how it is! Ahah." He brings his hands up from his lap to shoot finger guns at you, which deflate as quickly as he brought them to life.

Your brows come together, and you narrow your eyes at him. Caine looks at your eyes from under his teeth and jumps from the seriousness in them. He plants one of his hands on his hip and brings the other up, preparing to snap his way out of this situation, when you catch on and call him out. "Wait, Caine. Please." Caine looks as if he's about to lie to you with an excuse when he just deflates instead, looking away from you.

"It's nothing to worry about, really. I'm sorry that I woke you." You don't think you'll ever get used to hearing his calm voice. You take the blanket off yourself and scoot closer to him, sitting across from him. He still doesn’t look at you, despite your one-sided eye contact. "Don't be sorry, Caine. I always like being with you, even if it's in the middle of the night."

Caine looks back up to you, his shoulders drooping and his eyes shimmering in the light of your room. You smile back at him to reassure him. "It's alright, Caine, I know it's hard to talk about stuff that makes you feel bad. Just know that I really care about you, and I don't want you to-" As you spoke, Caine's teeth pushed up and together. He interrupted you. "I… had a nightmare. T-that everyone abstracted, and I was alone. When I woke up, I felt so scared." Caine began to fidget with his gloved hands. "I saw you abstract, and I couldn't do anything to stop it."

So that's what this is about. He wanted to make sure you were okay. You put your hands over his to stop his fidgeting. "Caine, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, we all are. We're okay." You take his hands in yours. Caine froze up, looking at your joined hands. You waited until his jittery eyes looked back into yours. "Thank you for checking on me. That was sweet of you." He looked away from your warm gaze and shrugged his shoulders. "Of course! I mean its nothing really."

Your gaze falters, and you drop your hands in your lap, releasing Caine's hands. You don't notice how his hands followed yours for a moment before snapping back to his own lap. "Caine, would you like to stay the night?" Caine's teeth widen, and his eyes shrink once more. You continue, "I mean, I know when I'm not feeling good, being around people would always make me feel better." You look back up to him, and your eyes widen from his expression. "Only if you want to! Sorry, that was a stupid suggestion, forget-" Caine reaches out this time and takes your hands back in his, successfully shutting you up. "I'd love to. I've always wanted to have a sleepover with a human!"

You both smile at each other for a moment and squeeze his hands. You've forgotten how pretty his eyes were. You slip your hands out of his slowly and back up to your pillow, making sure to scoot to one side so Caine can have the other. Lifting the blanket, you pat the open side beside you. His shoulders tense up, and he looks to the side before floating over to the empty side and lying stiffly on his back. You get yourself comfortable on your back and look over to Caine with a smile, trying to stifle your laughter. "Caine its okay! Beds are supposed to be relaxed in, I won't bite!"

He shoots a glance at you and back to the ceiling quickly before forcibly relaxing his shoulders. You look up at the top of his teeth and notice he's still wearing his top hat in bed. You sit up once more and reach a hand out towards his hat while looking down at him, "May I?" Caine looked between your hand and face before nodding his teeth. You gingerly take his hat from his head and place it on one of the poles on your headboard, before lying back down.

You let a deep breath, before looking over to Caine to see if he was asleep yet. Instead of sleeping, you saw that he was fidgeting nervously. The small lines around his eyes returning. You frown and turn on your side to face him entirely, letting one of your hands rest beside your pillow. "You want to talk about the nightmare more?" Caine flinched as your voice brought him out of his thoughts. He turned his teeth to you, looking downwards. His eyes softened, though you could tell he was still nervous about something. "No, thank you, it's just, what if I go to sleep and I have that same nightmare?"

You looked away from him as he spoke so you wouldn't make him uncomfortable with your eye contact, deciding to bring your gaze back up to him when you spoke so he knew you were serious. "Then I'd be right here for you, if you needed me." Caine chuckled at that, turning his body towards you. You raised a brow at him as he looked up at you. His gaze was calmer from your reassurance, much to your satisfaction.

"What?" You playfully frowned as you noted the glint in his softened eyes. Caine had brought one of his hands up to lie beside him on the bed. You felt your hand clam up when he literally just rested his hand near yours, but when his pinkie moved to lay over yours, Jesus, it feels like the wind was sucked out of your body. "Just, you're very sweet too, you've always been kind to me. Even when I didn't deserve it." It took you a beat to organize your attention from his touch. Alright, just be cool. Your expression faltered slightly, and you looked away for a moment to think of something to say. "What's important is how far you've come, you should be proud of that."

You don't know how much longer you could handle his giant, soft eyes staring at you. Whoa, wait, forget you, was Caine _blushing?_ You let your eyes drift away from his gaze to where his cheeks would be if he had any. And just as you had thought, comical pink lines were radiating a pink glow. You subconsciously move your hand deeper under his. "Did I say something wrong?" His eyes shot down to your hands, and you could swear his blush grew a deeper shade. He shook his head. "I didn't think you had paid that much attention, is all." Now it was your turn to blush, you hoped it wasn't too noticeable. You could only bring yourself to answer with a shrug of your shoulders.

It somehow only dawned on you how close the two had gotten when Caine turned himself to face you. Like _really_ close, yet you couldn't bring yourself to turn back around. You _wanted_ to be this close to him, closer if you were being honest. Jesus, control yourself, dude, holy.

You flop to your side, where your back was to him, and immediately miss the touch of his hand. You turn your head to him."We should probably try to sleep. If you need me, please wake me up. I probably won't mind." You could see Caine looking at where your hand was, his hand remaining a moment longer before he rolled onto his back. "Of course, thank you for doing this." You smiled at him and let your eyes close as your head rested on your pillow. "It's no problem, really. Goodnight, Caine." Caine shifted his head to the side to look at the back of your head. "Goodnight."

It surprisingly didn't take long for you to fall back asleep after that. You remember tossing a few times, though. One of the times when the lights had been turned off, which you don't remember doing, you subconsciously opened your eyes enough just to check on Caine. You remember smiling as you saw his closed mouth, which must've meant he was asleep. Another time, you could've sworn you felt Caine's arm around your stomach when you were on your back. You didn't care enough to move it.

It was probably a few hours later when your body woke itself up. You were on your side, with your arm resting on something, eh, it's probably just a pillow. You stretch your legs out and pull the pillow closer to you, refusing to open your eyes in a poor attempt to drift back off to sleep. You tried to curl further around your pillow, but frowned when your forehead hit something hard. Did your pillow just move? Alright, what was up with this thing?

You force your eyes to open and see white. Huh? You look up and- oh shit. Your eyes blew open wide, and the pillow you had wrapped around was _Caine_. You looked down to see that your arm was around his waist, and your damn legs were tangled in his. His own hand held the upper arm that was wrapped around him. It was good that his teeth were still closed because you had practically nuzzled him just moments ago. Okay, if you just move slowly, maybe you won't wake him- Caine's mouth began to slowly open, making his eyes look lidded. You froze as he went through the same process of realization as you did.

But, again, Ryland Grace doesn't plan anything. He just sort of stumbles into everything. So when he stumbled into you after you moved into the classroom right next to his, he didn't plan on falling in love. It's not that he was closed off to it; he just never had any luck with relationships, and you were too pretty to end up liking him. Too good to be true.

When you were the one who ended up asking him out, then, he was completely taken aback. Because, just like everything else in his life—he didn't plan on it.

Regardless, he was over the moon excited about it. Jumped in head first. Really fell for you hard, although a lot of it wasn't planned. He didn't plan on what your relationship would be like after three months. He's never made it that far with any relationship after college.

Didn't plan on moving in with you after a year. That absolutely wasn't in the cards considering what happened the last time he moved in with someone, but he kicked himself in the seat of the pants for doubting you on that front. Moving in with you was the best thing that ever happened to him.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to him.

He did plan to go with you to your friends' house after they had their baby, though. That much is true. He's pretty good at day-to-day planning. And lesson planning. It's the major life planning that he's not so great at.

That's another internal conversation for another day.

He wanted to go with you to your friends' house. He knew them well enough. They were your friends first, but he liked them after you introduced him to them. He was ecstatic to learn that they had their baby. To see them and help them in any way that he could.

Plus, them having a baby meant another kid for him to teach and love as his own in 13 years, give or take.

But, at the end of the day, it was a chance for him to see your happiness. To see the way you jumped up and down with excitement at the prospect of meeting the baby. To see the compassion you'd display when you'd inevitably end up cleaning up around the house to spare your friends the pain of doing it with a newborn.

So, yeah. He planned on going with you. Any chance he gets to see how gorgeous you are when you're excited or how big your heart is, he'll take.

That's why he's right here, standing next to you on their doorstep, gift bag that you put together for the baby in his right hand and left arm wrapped around your waist. You're practically vibrating from the elation weaving its way through your nerves and muscles.

He can't stop staring at you. Hopefully you don't think he's weird for it.

"God," you whisper while frantically rapping your knuckles against the front door. "I'm so excited."

He doesn't say anything at first. Too stunned by your sweetness. Too hypnotized. All he can do is look down at you, give your waist a squeeze, and kiss your temple. When you lean into it, he feels his heart flutter in his chest.

It flutters harder when you peek up at him and steal a featherlight kiss on his lips. Borderline heart palpitations after that one. God, he loves you so much it hurts.

"They'd be dumb to not make you the godmother," is the response he blurts out when you pull back and stare up at him instead. Stupid thing to say. Makes his cheeks flush with a simmering, slightly embarrassed heat. You short-circuited his brain. His doctorate-holding brain.

But his stupidity paid off. Made you laugh and glance up at him. Any time your eyes are on him, he feels like the universe's favorite child.

"I'd only accept that title if they make you the godfather," you joke.

The upward quirk of your lips, a gentle little indication of a smirk, only makes him blush harder. You have such a hold on him. He loves you more than words can describe. He's actually certain that there are no words to describe how deeply he loves you. None at all.

"Is this your way of asking me to marry you?" he jokes back. You gasp. You bless him with a soft, sweet kiss on the cheek. He isn't fully convinced that he's not dead and in a paradise of an afterlife right now.

"How'd you know?" you mumble into his skin before you pull back just enough to look at him. Not the first time you've spoken something into his skin. Definitely not the first time you've done it in public.

Ryland laughs. Then he shrugs. Diverts his eyes away from you and focuses on the intricate patterns inlaid on the door's window to prevent himself from getting too flustered.

"Just had a hunch."

You huff and knock again, quicker than the last time. Your impatience is just another thing he loves about you. It ensures that the job gets done when he's got his head lost in the clouds.

"Funny. I always thought you were the one who was supposed to do the proposing."

That's on the way, is what he wants to say. It's one of the only things he actually did plan. That ring's been burning a hole in the back of his bedside table drawer for the last few weeks.

But he can't let you know that.

So, "I'm full of surprises, hon," is what he actually says.

"Don't I know it." You plant one more kiss on his cheek. Then a lingering one on the corner of his lips. That one has him huffing and gently tilting his head away from you despite very desperately wanting to stay there. He clears his throat, a little awkward and a lot flustered, then reaches up to knock on the door himself.

"Where the hell are they?"

"Probably dealing with their adorable brand-new baby. Patience, Dr. Grace," you purr into his ear.

Jesus.

Takes all of his strength to not pass out and ruin your night before it even starts. It's like you're trying to kill him, and you're really good at it. You've studied his weaknesses and you know exactly how to exploit them. He knocks a little quicker. A little harder, too, to cover up the sound of his stilted, breathy laugh.

His salvation arrives a few seconds later. Just before you could plant the open-mouthed kiss on his jawline that would have fully killed him, the door whips open. You yank yourself out of his hold and dart into the house while squealing about wanting to see the baby, leaving Ryland and your friend's husband all alone.

"They're in the kitchen!" Charlie shouts, an attempt at speaking over your own shouting. You had taken a left turn toward their bedroom. Within seconds, he and Ryland see you shoot past the hallway again, bee-lining to the right toward the kitchen.

"I guess she's excited," he mutters while he turns back to look at Ryland, who nods. He can't help but laugh at just how high pitched your voice got. How it's still high pitched all the way across the house already. He isn't sure he's ever heard it get that high. He also doesn't remember the last time he'd seen you run so quickly.

"She's been talking about this all day," he gushes through a grin. A little embarrassing, probably, but he can't help it. He's pretty certain that he was put on this godforsaken earth just to gush and fawn over you at any given moment.

Oh, and to teach his kids. But it's summer vacation, so…just gives him more time to fawn over you.

"For the record," Ryland says while handing the gift bag to Charlie, "I'm also excited for you guys. Congrats, Dad."

Charlie expresses his gratitude with a bashful little nod of his head. The hug he pulls Ryland into was a little shocking, but appreciated. That's probably the only time he's ever gotten a hug from this guy.

Not bad. Pretty firm. Relatively comforting. Granted, not as comforting as your hugs, but…it was a nice gesture, you know?

"How's everything been going here?"

Charlie sucks in a breath. Lets it out as a stressed little sigh as he's in the process of walking deeper into his house.

Ryland would be lying if he said he didn't notice the bags under the poor guy's eyes when he opened the door. It's odd, though, because he still looks really happy.

"It's hard. Definitely way harder than I knew it'd be, but…"

Charlie pauses, then hums. One of his hands waves his complaint away. Pushes it off so that it can't plague him anymore. Ryland's still slowly following behind while they head toward the kitchen.

"It doesn't matter. She's perfect. We love her so much. Everything is just…right. She was the missing piece we needed."

He's got a big, beaming smile on his face. Ryland returns that grin with one of his own softer smiles. No teeth. He's hoping that smile reads as heartwarming, or something along those lines. Because, yes, it's really sweet that Charlie feels that way, but now he's in his own head.

Kids.

Just another thing that Ryland Grace has never planned for. Never thought about it for more than a second because, for God knows how long, he hadn't been in a relationship. Plus, he has kids—they're not biologically his, but that doesn't mean he loves them any less than if they were.

Does he want kids? Who knows. Do you? Who knows. He's never asked you. You've never asked him. This could potentially be a ticking time bomb. What if you want them and he doesn't? What if it's the other way around? What'll happen then?

Panic. Panic will happen. Hell, panic is already happening. His heart's slamming in his rib cage at an alarmingly quick degree. He can hear his own pulse in the blood rushing through his ears. It's so loud that he's worried everyone in this house can hear it. That it might wake the baby.

He didn't plan for the bad things, either. Like you leaving him over something like this.

The heat in his face is almost unbearable. He feels bad because he can see Charlie's lips moving, but he can't hear the words he's saying. He can also feel his own lips moving and his legs still carrying him to the kitchen. How on Earth is he talking and walking through this? That's a talent he didn't know he had. He thought that crossing over the threshold to the kitchen would kill him.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. In reality, he thought that he wouldn't be able to do it, so he paused right before the kitchen door. Charlie walked into it without any issues. Ryland? Not so much.

The catch of his feet at the kitchen threshold is almost as rough as the catch of his breath in his own throat. Nice to feel you again, air. Forgot you existed for a moment.

It's only when he hears your voice float out of the kitchen that he gets a sort of second wind. It breaks through the rush of blood in his ears and gently falls into it, a single, soft question that makes his heartbeat slow to a somewhat acceptable speed.

"Where'd Ryland go?"

Three words. Incredibly generic. Still makes him melt, though, because you're the one who said it; he swallows his fear and his panic to the best of his ability. Steels himself a little bit to will away the typhoon of blood still rushing through his ears, then takes a step forward and enters the kitchen.

And it hits him, then. While you're standing there with that brand new baby girl, cradling her like she's your own, it slams into him like a freight train.

Sure, he didn't plan on wanting to have kids. On wanting to start a family. He never had to think about it because it had never been right in front of him. Here he's been for the last almost-40 years, unknowingly barreling toward something he hadn't planned for:

He wants kids.

Like usual, he stumbled into it. Literally. Because he almost tripped on the threshold when he saw just how natural you looked with that baby in your arms.

Once he regained his stability, he managed to take a couple steps in your direction, but you're the one who closed the gap. The way you floated over to him was ethereal, to say the least. Gentle, slow, easy. Like what you were doing, and the little bundle of joy you were holding, came so naturally to you.

"Hey," you excitedly coo at him, grin so big it's almost like your face is splitting in two. You turn your body just enough to let him see the baby, but he can't look at her for too long. He's too busy focusing on you.

"Look at her. Isn't she precious?" you whisper. While you're gently rocking her in your arms, Ryland's fighting back tears. Why is he even tearing up? Is this a panic cry or a sentimental, heartwarming cry? What the hell is going on?

Your voice breaks through his internal monologue. Soft and sweet, laced with just a bit of concern. Through a tiny laugh, you ask, "You alright?"

It makes him blink a few times. He clears his throat and tries to act like he wasn't just on the verge of tears.

"All good," he murmurs. He leans down to kiss your temple. It had been too long since he had done it and he was starting to get withdrawals. He looks down at the baby in your hands, smiles, then looks back up at you for a moment.

Within that split second that he's looking at you before he turns his head to meet the gazes of your friends, he's certain that he's got a plan for the rest of his life.

And for yours, if you'll have him.

The gruff noise that pushes its way out of Ryland's chest when you tackle him on the couch is embarrassing only for a moment. The embarrassment doesn't get its chance to bloom as a pink, humiliated blush on his face. He's too busy getting lost in the kiss you've ignited upon falling into his lap.

It's slow and steady, albeit a little desperate—and that's on both ends. Sure, you were the one who pushed him down onto the couch, but he was the one who got handsy the second you walked through the front door.

When a day is long, or a little overwhelming, or just plain confusing, he finds comfort in you. Although, if he was being honest, the day could be perfectly normal and he'll still find comfort in you.

He just loves you. Sue him.

One of his hands splays out over your lower back. His grip is probably tighter than it should be as he pulls you closer to him to deepen the kiss. He'll feel bad about it later. The way you whine and roll your hips against his is much more important to him right now.

"Ry," you whimper into his mouth, all breathy and needy and utterly intoxicating. He can't help it when he breaks that kiss and his head falls back onto the couch. He also couldn't help punching out a pathetic little groan while he did it. Gives you the opportunity to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

He shuts his eyes and tilts his head to the right a little bit. Just enough to give you more access to his skin. To give you space to press those soft, open-mouthed kisses on his neck, the ones that he loves so much because they make him shiver and force goosebumps to pop up all over his arms. Remind him of what it's like to be alive, to be in love, to want someone and to be wanted by someone.

He could do this for the rest of his life. That's the one thing he's planned: A life with you. Whatever it has to offer. He's hoping for happiness, marriage, and kids—the biological kind—but he'll take anything he can get.

Speaking of…he never really got an idea of where you land on that. Please, God, let it be in the same camp as me. It'd be a lot better than having to break up with her.

So, when you're in the process of sucking a hickey onto that sensitive spot just below his jawline, he blurts out, "Do you see yourself getting married? Having kids?"

You stop. Like, immediately stop. He's pretty sure he heard your breath hitch in your throat. He definitely felt your back and shoulders tense. You're so wound up that he's almost concerned about what your answer will be.

You press your hands against his chest. With one soft push, you're sitting up on his lap instead of burying your face into his neck, the intensity of your gaze making him squirm.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ryland caves immediately. "Don't worry about it. Wasn't important."

He lets out an awkward chuckle. Gravelly and stilted and utterly embarrassed. He leans up to kiss the corner of your lips, then your jaw, then dives into your neck the same way you did to him only a few seconds earlier. If he can distract you well enough, you might forget what he said.

"Ryland Grace," you softly but sternly scold him. Now he's the one stopping in his tracks. Sorta like a deer in headlights. He squeezes his eyes shut and prays to whatever higher power is out there that you'll drop it.

"First and last name seems a little unwarranted," he mumbles into your neck before he continues pressing kisses on it.

"Stop it," you giggle and squirm on his lap as he kisses down to your collarbones. A classic indication that he probably should shave, but…once again, that's for another time. There are bigger fish to fry right now.

He listens. He stops kissing you, but he leaves his face buried in your neck. It's better that way. You won't see how bright red his face is even though his skin is probably burning yours right now.

"Look at me," you demand. Earns you a sigh. As he wraps his arms around your waist, he contemplates pretending like he didn't say anything at all. A good boyfriend does that, right? Gaslights his girlfriend?

Ryland lets out another sigh and lifts his head up, instead. Should probably listen to you if he wants to enact those life plans he wants. The softness of your eyes is enough to calm his shot nerves just a little bit. Enough to get him to stop feeling like he needs to jump off the nearest bridge right now.

"What'd you ask me?"

"I…" he begins, but he cuts himself off with a grumbled little noise and shakes his head. In his defense, it's not easy for him to think when you've wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself closer to him.

"It's nothing. Really. I was just thinking. I guess."

One of your eyebrows quirks up. Then you smirk at him. He tries not to think about the way your fingers are twirling a few strands of his hair at the back of his head.

"You were super casually thinking about marriage and babies?" you joke.

"Why were you gonna make me say it again if you knew what I asked?!" he tosses back at you.

That one earns a big laugh from you. He's noticed you always laugh when he gets louder. Something about how his voice gets…high-pitched? He tries not to think about it. Why overthink it if it makes you laugh?

"I just wanted to be sure that's what I heard!"

"Yes! You heard me correctly!"

You shake your head. Your smile's still bright. Pretty enough to make him forget about whatever the hell is going on right now. He finds his arms slipping around your waist almost instinctively.

"You're so dramatic." You sigh. He chases your finger after you tap the tip of his nose with one of your index fingers. When you pulled that hand out of his hair, he isn't sure; he was too busy staring at you to notice.

"I can't believe you asked me that."

"I'm just trying to make a plan for—"

The press of your palm on his lips shuts him right up. What a blessing it is to be shut up in such a gentle way. Have his eyes turned into hearts yet? You'll manage to get it done.

"Let me ask you a question," you softly tell him while you slide your hand off of his mouth. Ryland straightens. Why is he as stiff as a board right now? It's like he's in his dissertation defense all over again.

All you do is smile. That stiffness in his spine starts to melt away.

"Do you think I'd get married to anyone except you? Have kids with anyone except you?" you ask.

It's like a million wedding bells all started crashing the second those words left your lips. Goodness gracious. All of that tension in his body dissipates, and he's nothing but grateful for it.

Your hands slide up so you can cup his cheeks. Something he often does to you, something he's not really on the receiving end of most of the time. Something he's could get used to when he feels the gentle back and forth swipe of your thumbs over his cheeks.

"Technically," he mumbles into your palm after pressing a soft kiss on it, "that was two questions."

You roll your eyes. He laughs when you flick his forehead. Swats your hands away from his face with nothing but adoration in his touch. Ends up grabbing your wrists and cradling them against his chest.

"But, to answer both of them," he murmurs just before leaning up to steal a kiss from you.

"I sure hope not."