Imagine writing

Part of Dean wished you could feel the way his eyes burned into the back of your head from across the bar. Hell, he wished the guy he was glaring at would feel it so he could just melt away already. But there he was, still standing. He’d started talking to you when you were walking back to the table, chatting to you long enough to offer you a drink. I mean, who did he think he was? Talking to you, making you laugh? His hand got closer to your arm every time your head dipped to chuckle, acting as if he was steadying you. It was practically malicious in Dean's books. How could you enjoy this guy’s company over his? He glanced at Sam, who was sitting at the small high table next to him, oblivious to his woes. The three of you had headed to this dive bar to get some work done in some place that wasn't a stuffy motel or a silent library. Clearly, to Dean, this was a mistake.

“Sammy, you think that guys are vampires?”

“Which guy” “The one with (Name).” 

Sam rolled his eyes, not even looking up from his computer.

“Dean, don't start this again.” “Start what? I’m just concerned. Lots of vampires in these parts.” He huffs, sipping his drink without taking his glaring eyes off the man. Sam closes his laptop, finally glancing up just to give Dean a pointed look.

“Dean, you do this every time. We go to some bar to work, some guy looks at (Name) too long, and you ask me if he’s some creature that we can hunt.” Dean glances back at you and the guy, and then over at Sam.

“Shut up.” “You know I'm right.”

Dean huffed again and turned away from Sam, forcing him to look back at you. His blood boiled at how carelessly you laughed; Dean wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that, not this random. He hated how oblivious you seemed to the sleazeball of a guy who stepped closer to you with every joke. Maybe you did like him; maybe you found him charming and handsome. That thought could sink Dean's heart to its lowest depths. The thought of you and some guy-

“I’m going to go get them,” Dean said abruptly but firmly. Sam looked up from his notes. 

“Great so we can actually get work done?”

“Something like that,” Dean mumbled, making his way through the crowd to you. He effortlessly swung an arm around your shoulders as he approached. “Hey, sweetheart, who's your friend?”

You raised an eyebrow at the name. The arm? Well, that was a usual thing, but the name? It took you a second to reply as your eyes tore away from Dean and back to the now-confused man in front of you.

“Uh, this is Corey, Corey, this is Dean.” You say, eyes glancing back between the two. Corey opens his mouth, likely to greet Dean formally, but he’s not quick enough. “Well, it’s great to meet you, Corey,” Dean butts in, eyeing you slyly before turning a warning gaze to Corey. “But I think (Name) better be going now; we’ve got plenty to do, don’t we?” He says, turning his gaze to your rather unimpressed face. You cross your arms and stare back at him, searching his eyes for whatever could have gotten into him. Upon seeing the determination in them, you sigh and turn back to Corey. “Yeah, nice meeting you.” You nod. “Thanks for the drink.” You finish, as Dean pulls you off and away from the man. Just like he’d been wanting to all night.

“Oh sweetheart, we can get you much better drinks, believe me.” He says loudly behind his shoulder so Corey can hear. “What was that? Watered-down lemonade with the bleached blonde?” He chuckles at you. “C’mon, let's get you some air so you can breathe off the chemicals.” He pulls you to the door, stepping outside into the crisp night air. The world is blue with the rising moon and fresh without the stuffy conversation of the bar. None of that matters to you, however, as you shove his arm off your shoulder.

“What the hell was that, Dean?” You huff, arms crossed and clearly upset with his array of behaviours. “You were a real dick back there to a real nice guy.” “Aw, sweetheart, don’t-” “And that! You’ve never called me that! What’s going on, Dean?” You ask, voice softening at the end with a true concern that had Dean's eyes doing the same, even if they were also glancing nervously around your face. He sighs, punching hands into his pocket. “Look, I just… I don’t like seeing you with guys like that y’know?” He mumbles quietly, looking up at you through sheepish lashes. You’ve never really seen him like this before, so vulnerable. 

“Guys like what?” You ask, watching his face for any inkling of what he’s thinking.

Dean turns to lean on the railing that separates the porch from the drop of the concrete. Only glancing at you sideways as he forms his answer. “Jerks like that, who come up to you all smooth, getting you drinks, making you laugh.” He lists, face heating up a little under the cold blue moon. You’ve never seen him with red on his ears, except for when you and Sam found his cassette of non-rock, very ABBA-focused music. But this was nothing like that; he was embarrassed- of something, of caring this much for you? You took a step closer. “Dean…” “Look, I'm sorry I was a dick; I just couldn’t take it, couldn’t keep watching you from across the bar…” “You were jealous?” 

He refuses to look at you now, focusing on some garbage can across the street, overflowing with bags. The tension grows as he stays silent, jaw clenching as he gives in. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” “Yeah, you got me.” He resigns, turning to look at you now with all the sincerity he could muster. Dean steps closer as his eyes focus on yours. A nervousness he doesn’t even feel, fighting the supernatural fluttering in his chest. “I want to be the one to make you laugh like that, to smile like that.” He confesses, “The one who buys you a drink with some stupid line and then gets to steady you as we talk.” His eyes scan yours as he speaks, paranoid of even the slightest furrow of your brow. “And yeah, maybe I want to be the one who calls you sweetheart and all the dumb shit that comes with the territory.” “The territory?” You question, finally. He nods determinedly. “The territory of being yours.” He finished, his voice soft and deep with a sincerity you hadn’t heard.

Your breath caught in your throat at the admission, and you could see him shifting his weight back and forth, anxiously waiting for your reaction. Dean's jaw clenched again in the same nervous habit. 

“You really want that?” You ask, stepping forward. “Want that?” He throws his arms up. “I dream about it! I wake up in the mornings mad I’ve woken up because it means I'm back in the world where I don’t have you, and the only way I cope is by hoping you're across the room feeling the same thing as me.” He says, quieting as he steps closer. “Well, I do.” You reply, his head tilts, and his smile softens. “Do what?” He smiles, wanting to hear it, to know. “Wake up mad.” You smile back, stepping the final bit closer. “Hoping the same.”

Dean's smile becomes a grin as he engulfs you in a sudden hug. Arms wrapped around you as he pulls you as close as he can manage. The force makes you spin as you laugh at the abruptness. Your arms fall around him, and he grins into the side of your head, pressing a short kiss to your temple as his hand goes to the back of your head to keep you in place.

“That's all I wanted to hear.” He mumbles, his calloused hand stroking your hair so carefully as you laugh. “I should've made you jealous a lot earlier.” You chuckle; he laughs. “Oh, sweetheart, believe me, this has been a brewing issue. You're just lucky it overflowed tonight.”

You smile as he pulls back, gazing into your eyes. His hand trails to your cheek before pressing a breathless kiss to your lips. One that has you smiling and chasing for more after. He pulls back from the second short kiss with a soft smile that you now know is only for you. Sighing as he looks back at the door. “Sam’s gonna kill us.” 

You laugh, leading him back inside. He supposes he’ll have to buy Corey a drink since he instigated this, not that he will. In fact, Dean now revels in glaring at him smugly from across the bar for the rest of the night. Arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

You woke up on a stiff bed, morning light blocked by a black out blind giving the room a brown tune as your eyes tried to adjust to the clutter. As if you had to, the room was familiar in a warm way, the warm way Holland was. Cluttered, yes, but unapologetically so. Every item was something he’d scattered, when he had to run out of the house and needed somewhere to put an old receipt, or when he was dragging you to bed and had to throw his tie somewhere, carelessly kicking of his shoes. Everything scattered with a story, and a following excuse on why it shouldn’t be picked up, normally again followed by a dragging to bed. Probably how last night started, but last night was last night, and now you where laying, thin blanket bunched around your legs, Hollands heavy arm over your middle as a sigh of slumber leaves his nose. You shifted a little to face him more. His lips where parted, cheek smooshed against the pillow, an ugly face of pure blissful sleep that you couldn’t help but smile softly at, hand coming to brush the stray strands of hair out of his resting eyes. His lashes fluttered against his cheek as you did so, a drowsy hum leaving his lips as his eyes pulled themselves open, sleep on the side. He stayed like this, enamoured, staring up at you, for some time, before finally murmuring, in a voice deep with sleep.

“Morning baby.” He mumbled, shifting to burry his head in your neck, stubble scratching the skin. It’s like he wants to itch you as he nuzzles further, your hand coming to his hair. He presses a lazy kiss there, trailing up to your jaw and to your cheek. Nose pressing against the side of your face as he inhales your scent, mumbling something about his head hurting from a case or from a drink, something he can’t quite remember, but it doesn’t quite matter. Not when your hands in his hair and he’s leaning into the comfort. Mumbling now about the day he had ahead, about the case, about how he’d try not to be home late, but you know him, know how wrapped up in the case he can get, he’ll make it up to you, is what he claims.

“I’ll bring home food, desert if it’s late, Holly’s at a friends, just me and you tonight, me and you honey.” Is all he can murmur before he’s back to kissing you, like some teenage lover, like a puppy licks it’s owner. So juvenile yet you know it’s full of love, a love for a marriage promise and the warmth of your shared bed. A love for your late night whispers, and your morning updates.

He knows his job is a lot, knows it bothers you when he’s away. But he also knows, that you know, that he’ll always be back, in the mornings, holding onto you just like this.

Robin paced her bedroom nervously as Steve lay on her bed. “It’s fine, Rob, don't stress!” He chuckled, clearly amused by the girl's rambling.

You piped in from the closet.

“Yeah, don’t worry, she’s going to think you look great!”

She is the topic of this worry.

Vickie.

Robin had finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. So now you and your boyfriend Steve, coincidentally Robin's closest friends, are trying to help her prepare. By having a full-blown sleepover dedicated to prepping your clueless friend. 

“But what if I say the wrong thing?”

“Robin.” You emerge from the closet, clothes in hand, as you cross to riffle through her dresser. You had been over at Robin's house so many times that at this point it was like a second home, giving you the comfort to pilfer her closets as you please, so you could pick out the perfect outfit for her date the next day. Steve watches from the bed, throwing a random ball up and down. “You're going to be fine, you guys are already hitting it off!” You smile, laying the clothes down on the bed as Steve looms over you and gives his nod of approval. Robin stops her pacing and looks over your shoulder two.

“Holy shit, that's actually pretty good…” “Thank you! Never doubt my sense of style.” You grin as Robin pushes past lightly to examine the set. 

A nice sweater, paired with some straight jeans and her favourite necklace. It was simple, yes, but effective. You were sure Robin's personality would carry the rest.

“Oh idea!” Steve exclaims, crossing the room and getting Robin's bomber jacket from the door.

“Wear this, and then when it gets too cold, you can be all like ‘Oh Vickie, take my jacket, I insist!’” He mimes as you laugh, and Robin flusters. “No way.” “Yes way! C’mon, it's perfect! You’ll be suave.” “I don’t think Robin does Suave.” “I can be Suave! I do Suave!”

“Then take the Jacket!”

She grumbles in defeat, 

“I hate you guys.” You turn to Steve, putting an arm around him.

“Look at our little Robin! All grown up.” You pretend to wipe a tear as Steve’s hand comes to firmly grasp your shoulder, the same mock sentimentality on his face.

“Leaving the nest, dating girls, we’ve raised her well.” “You guys are dumbasses.”

“It’s like… like she’s still here.” 

That earned you a pillow thrown at your head and a laugh all around.

The sleepover progressed, and a movie was clicked on as you settled into your routine places. Robin is in her bed, you and Steve on an air mattress below. He used to sleep on the floor next to you until you’d insisted it would hurt his back too much, and that the two of you were used to sharing. That didn't, however, stop the air mattress from being a small, flimsy thing that could roll you in a direction depending on the weight. That weight being Steve as he sat down, sliding you to him in a way he was secretly grateful for as he pressed a kiss to your temple. He wrapped his arm around you to bring you closer, and your gaze fixed on the TV. Robin, however, stared up at the ceiling.

“Is it too little?”

“The outfit?”

“What do you want a suit-” “No, but I mean… will she like it?”

You know she didn’t mean the outfit, a deeper insecurity hiding in her darting eyes. 

“Aw, Robin, she’s head over heels for you. I’ve seen the way she plays with her hair when you approach. You're gonna do great.” You say. 

“And if you don’t, you’ll always have a table at our dates.” Steve pipes in from your shoulder, you elbow him for it as you and Robin chuckle.

“Thanks, guys, even if you are crappy dating coaches.” She smiles a lopsided smile as she looks over at the two of you. “Hey, when you're kissing Vickie, you’ll thank us!”

“Is that anything to say to your slaving parents?”

The two of you reply in a stumbling unison that causes Robin to laugh.

“Don’t jinx me!”

The night carries on, the movie ending, and Robin finally drifts off to sleep. You whisper softly.

“Steve?” “Mm?” “You think she’s got this?” He smiles sleepily, brushing hair off your forehead so he can leave a mumbled kiss there.

“Totally, we’ll be on double dates by the end of the month.” 

You smile. “Thats what I was thinking.”

“Reminds me of us, you know?” He murmurs. “Or at least how I acted when talking about you.” “Oh, believe me, my friends didn’t hear the end of it.” You agreed, “It was always ‘Steve this’ and ‘Steve that.’”

“Yeah, I practically had a heart attack when you arrived late to the date.” “There was bad traffic.” “Yeah, I was still terrified.”

You held a silence, his lips still pressed to your head as you two reminisced.

“And now look at us.” He smiles softly, only illuminated by the moonlight, as he shifts to see you better.

“Training the next generation.” You joke, he rolls his eyes.

“It just reminds me how many stages we’ve been through in our relationship.”

“Awkward, honeymoon, attached, lovers.” You jokingly list a few, but his eyes don’t change in their reverence.

“And it reminds me how much I love you.” He smiles. “Because you’ve stuck through it all.” “We’ve stuck through it all.” You correct, smiling softly. He hums in agreement and places a soft kiss on your lips, a simple press, but the simplicity of it can still make your heart flutter. Yes, it may be simple, but it shows he doesn't have to prove anything, that he doesn’t need to put on a show with a grand kiss. That he can kiss you simply, and still somehow convey all the love he has for you, too.

“Okay, now go to sleep. We need to work on our disguises tomorrow.” “Disguises?” You chuckle, he grins back.

“For the date!” He states, like it’s obvious, you laugh again. “You're not seriously suggesting we stalk their date?” He pulls you closer with a smile, sinking into the air mattress as his head rests on top of yours and his hands trace patterns on your back. “Get a newspaper, poke some eyeholes-” “You're hilarious.”

A hushed whisper and laugh was what could be heard, as a group of halfblood teens raced quietly to the docks, you being one of them. It was the beginning of the end when it came to summer, nights starting to catch a chill and a nip to them, a chill that one could easily forget. One being you, the only person there who forgot to bring a jacket.  A shiver crossed your body as you sat with your friends by the docks, your drink quivering in your hands. “Jeez, it's freezing.” You say through guarded teeth, the rest chuckle and urge, ‘It’s fine, you’ll be fine.’ You just groan and huddle closer to yourself. Piper exclaims that you're being dramatic, Percy comments on your early exchange, when you claimed you had no need for a jacket. You roll your eyes, trying to form some kind of protest, but the buzzing minds of the group have turned to another topic, leaving you to sourly gaze around. As you scan the area again until you spot Leo, crossing over to you with that grin on his face, the one you like to hope he keeps for you, because at this point it gives you too many butterflies in your stomach for it not to be. His brown curls slightly dishevelled from the wind, he’d slipped on a simple hoodie, some skate thing he’d got last time the two of you had gone into town, a drink of his own in his hand. You can’t help but think about how handsome he looks, and how he’s still wearing the bracelet you made him during some random arts and crafts seminar. He plops next to you, already spurring out words as his attention focuses instantly on you. “How’s it cooking? Good looking?” He grins, his voice has a crackle to it as his usual flirting splurged in his opening overused lines. You’d heard this one before, and you would roll your eyes, but you're freezing, so you just nod back. That doesn’t stop the warmth in your cheeks from forming, if you could call it warmth at this point. You hate how he can say stupid lines like that, ones he uses regularly on you, and still make your heart flutter.

“No jacket today? You'll catch a cold.” He pouts playfully. “I’m fine.” You retort, ego already bruised from the earlier jabs. He gives you a curious look, which you return with a shrug. “Seriously, don’t worry.” 

He looks like he wants to say something, but nods instead. His attention, though never fully drifting from you, turns to the conversation of the rest of your friends. Though his eyes glance back often as his hands fidget with the strings of his hoodie. So you're again left sitting there, feeling like you're crazy for your shivers. You do notice, however, the heat radiating off of Leo. You assumed it, him being a son of Hephaestus and all, but it hadn’t registered in your brain just how warm he was until you could practically feel it radiating off of him despite the space between the two of you, the one you were now eager to cross, brain itching at the idea of doing it, of just biting the bullet and curling up to the boy. Your nervousness says no, that's too brash, unfair to him… but you're so cold… the debate settled in your mind as you leaned on his arm slightly. You felt his body stiffen with the sudden pressure, but he looked over and relaxed, a small smile on his face.

“I knew you were cold.”He grins, and you shoot him a glare in response. “Shut up.”

His smile widened, taking the bold move of lightly wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer. His hoodie is plush; it cushions you in. “One benefit of being a child of a fire god, I suppose.” He mumbles playfully, heart beating faster as you offer no reply except for a head buried on his shoulder. Sighing at the warmth finally being provided to you. You can't even stop thinking about the situation, for you know if you did, your heart would beat so fast it'd fall out. The others pretend not to notice, because, well, at this point, they feel like they’ve waited forever for at least one of you two to make the move. All so tired of watching the two of you stumble and grin at each other, flirting then not flirting, then touching and not touching, exhausting really. So they take this as a sign, the group migrates, you and Leo along with it, but they make sure to slowly fall further and further behind you two as you walk, Leo’s arm still around you.

He’s talking about nonsense now, well, not nonsense to him, definitely nonsense to you. But the way his eyes light up as he explains some mechanical achievement he’s done, pulling you closer subconsciously with every gust of wind that blows your direction, made it all worth it to just stand and listen. His eyes would meet yours, brown and twinkling with something. You hadn’t noticed when he fell silent, or when you two stopped walking. Only that you were now alone on the freezing beach, the group having run off, and were staring at each other.

“Are you still cold?” Leo asked, quiet and soft. You nodded, soft eyes mirroring his. He stepped forward a little, taking his other arm and wrapping it around you, pulling you close. You swayed with the wind, tucked into Leo’s arms. His arms around you, one hand on the back of your neck to keep your face sheltered. He hummed into your hair.

“(Name)...?” You pull back, meeting his eyes. “Leo.”

He smiles softly, concealing a nervousness in the corner of his lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitched, eyes widening, you couldn't even form words.

“You want to?” You managed to stutter out, he nodded. “Well… Yeah. ‘Thought I made that obvious.” He chuckled shyly.

“I thought you were just like that with everyone.” You admit, smiling sheepishly, he shakes his head.

“So… how about it?” 

The cold metal felt heavy in your pocket, in the box you’d safely tucked it away in. You made Rocky swear to not tell, as he wove the piece together. 

“Rocky, no, tell Grace why, question?” He speaks robotically and too loudly for your liking. “Shh shh. It’s just…. It’s a surprise.” “Ohh, Rocky dislike surprises.” The Eridian says strictly, you chuckle and reassure him. “No, it’s a good surprise. A happy one.” You say, looking down at the shabby box you’d fastened from scraps around the Hail Mary. Rocky just nodded, or I guess whatever nodding for him was, and continued to work on your commission.

You and Ryland had been together for a long time. So long you felt like every point of your life was woven into his. You couldn’t think back on a memory without it brushing him. He just felt right, like you’d been waiting for him your whole life. That's where the ring comes in. You turned it in your hand as you explained marriage to Rocky. 

“But Grace, [Your Last Name] already Mates.” Rocky questions, you nod. “That's true, yes, but on earth, there are steps to it. So right now, Ry is my boyfriend, but with this.” You pause, staring at the band. It was dark with Eridian metal, beautifully simple. “It’s like… permanent mates.” You explain. “If he says yes.” 

Rocky thinks for a second.

“Rocky thinks Grace will say yes.” He confirms, you smile softly, a glint of your nervousness in your eyes.

“That’s the hope.”

That thought is the one thing that keeps your mind stirring, the thing that keeps you awake at night, while Ryland's body encloses your own. He sleeps peacefully next to you, mumbling about some dream, while you lie awake, going over all the things he could say. What if he did say no? What then? You're stuck on a spaceship with him, maybe even stuck on a planet where he’s the only other person around. There could be no do-over. No next time. The best case, other than him saying no, was him just saying he wasn’t ready. But even then, you’d still feel this pit form in your stomach. Why was he not ready? Were you not right? And if he said no outright, that you maybe weren't the one for him ever… You knew that was improbable. Hell, you knew he loved you more than anything. You could see it in his eyes when he’d glance up to you, halfway through his work, glasses hanging off his face like they always do. Or when he’d pull you to the “don’t go crazy room,” the name being affectionately dubbed by the old crew, and dance with you to old love songs he swore up and down reminded you of him. Holding you and whispering how he loves you every time the phrase appears in the song, you’d chuckle, and he’d silence it with a kiss. Some nights the two of you would lie awake together, staring out the window, the somehow comforting nothing of space enveloping you two as he spoke.

“You make me the happiest man in the galaxy, I hope you know that.” You’d smile, leaning a head on his shoulder as a response. God, you loved him. But still, what if, just what if he didn’t want to be with you, what if this proposal was doomed to fail? You hated this feeling, trapped in your head with these thoughts, you knew Rocky couldn’t understand, and forget talking to Ryland about it. 

He’d taken notice of your worry, and your growing distance caused by it, countless queries as he lay next to you, all mumbled into your neck as his large arms held you impossibly close. You’d brush him off: 

“Just in a funk, don’t worry about it.” 

He’d leave it, nuzzling his nose back into your neck and murmuring how ‘if you needed to talk…’

Despite all of your worries, you still went ahead with getting Rocky to make the ring. The idea had gnawed at your head for too long, and you figured if you could feel the weight in your pocket when you were with Ryland, then you’d have to. Have to ask him to be yours.

As mentioned, however, the worry had caused problems. You’d been floating away from Ryland, no pun intended. Even in this small ship, he could see you avoiding him, working on opposite sides of the Hail Mary, sleeping or eating before or after him, pulling your hand from his when he’d reach to hold it, or ducking out of his grasp when he’d try to hold you from behind. It was driving him mad. The two of you always shared everything. What had changed? Countless thoughts formed in his head, thoughts that bubbled up and thrashed around just like, unbeknownst to him, yours had been doing for the past few weeks. Ryland hates confronting it; he hates what could come if he asks you why you're drifting away, why you act like you can’t stand to be around him. He hates what it could disrupt between you. The thought of losing you makes him want to die. But if he feels your hand slip out of his one more time, with no explanation he can find outside of the worst possibility, he may crack. 

“We need to talk,” Ryland says, approaching you. His stare is so intent, mouth opening to make up some lame excuse, to postpone, but he stops you. His eyes are tired, worn from work and thoughts of you. His hair is slightly more dishevelled than usual without you there to comb your hand through it. He’s wearing one of his nerdy science t-shirts, the humour of it lost in the tension that circles the two of you. “Seriously [Name]...please.” He begs.

Your excuse dissipates at his soft, worried eyes. He steps forward.

“Look are you…” He sighs, starting again. “You’ve been so distant recently and I just… I worry so much… are you done with me? Done with us?” 

His sad voice nearly breaks you.

“Ry-” you begin to say, but he stutters on.

“I respect your decision, of course, if that is the case, it’s just… I thought we were good, but the past few weeks- should I have asked you more? Paid more attention? Just please tell me because the thought of you hurting is tearing me apart, and I can’t take it-”

“Ryland.” You cut him off firmly, taking his hand. “Just… Just come with me.” You say. Pulling him, he still looks worried, you try to reassure him with your eyes as you lead him through the ship and into the projection room. Dropping his hand only when the two of you arrive.

“Ry… I’m not done with you, far from it.” You start by looking him in the eyes. You see the relief that forms in his eyes as they meet yours. You look around the room, and the screens are empty and white. It's isolating, just the two of you on the boardwalk. You pick up the remote, flicking through while you speak. “If we were on earth.” You hum, summoning your courage. This was the moment. The thought of all the worrying you had caused Ryland secured it. You refused to dodge this any longer, consequences be damned. “I would have proposed by now.” 

You hear his breath hitch, but you don’t look over, focused on getting the right setting. “I’d do it at a beach, on a cold, dreary day just like you like it.” You chuckle, as you find the beach you were looking for. Digital moody clouds hang over the two of you as the grey ocean laps the stony shore. Fake seagulls yell overhead. You finally look at him. 

“I’d be stupid about it.” You chuckle, his eyes are starting to water with the hope he’s let himself indulge in. “I’d say look over there!” You point, he turns, you smile at his compliance. When he turns back to your you’ve sunk to one knee. Hands shaking as you pull out the box that has been weighing you down for far too long.

“Ryland.” You say, his smile widens as the tears start to drop down his cheek, and you grin. 

“Aw, don’t cry, yet I haven’t done my speech.” You chuckle, which earns you a small laugh from him as he sniffs his tears back.

“Sorry sorry.” He smiles. Biting back his words to let you have your moment.

“Ryland Grace, you are the most amazing, funny, smart person ever. I've been with you so long now that I feel like half of myself is just made up of you. Half of everything I know is you, and I wouldn't have it any other way because it makes everything worth it. I love you. I love you from your soft eyes to your nerdy t-shirt to your stupid muscles.” You chuckle, he smiles with you, in tandem. This is everything he could ever ask for. “And I know we're in space, and we can't actually get married, hell, I can’t even give you a real beach for me to propose on right now. But I don't care. I want this, I want you. My husband forever.” You finish, smiling softly through your nervousness. “If you’ll let me?” You add, your eyes trace his for whatever thought he’s thinking. But they’re hard to track as he ducks to your level and envelopes you in a hug. “Yes, god yes.” He smiles, holding you close. You smile with relief and just pure joy. 

“I’m sorry I avoided you. I was just so worried.” You explain, he pulls back.

“I’d be insane to say no. Insane.” Ryland says, taking your hand, the one that's clutching the ring. He watches as you slide it on him. “Where’d you even?” “Rocky made it.” You explain, and he makes a ‘duh’ expression. “Well its beautiful, and I’m the happiest man in space.” He smiles.

“I might have you beat for that.” You retort. He laughs, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss. Soft and loving, with all the excitement he feels for the future pressed in it.