Saying you liked revealing clothes was an understatement. you liked feeling sexy in your clothes, and it was okay. it wasn't like you were walking in underwear. you liked crop tops, décolletés, short skirts, tight clothes, and all that shit. some liked it, some didn't. and it didn't matter. if they couldn't handle you, it wasn't your problem.

At first, when you were younger, you tried to change your style. wearing more modest clothes, baggier clothes to please men who didn't like your style. but it wasn't working so you stopped dating men who weren't comfortable with you dressing sexily and like you wanted.

And you stopped dating men. men were fine, but none of them catched your attention anymore. or you would date for a month and that's all. typical scenario:

1- you flirt with a guy; he's super nice, he really likes the whole i dress sexy thing.

2- you start dating; still dressing like yourself.

3- he asks you to change clothes one time because he doesn't want his male friend to see you like that. you change this one.

4- he asks you to change. again. you say no. he gets angry.

5- you break up with him.

Then you meet Natasha. when she hits on you in San Diego, you can't believe it. yeah you're used to men hitting on you: but a girl hitting on you that openly is new to you. so when she slides against the bar next to you, your legs are SHAKING. and then you don't know how to flirt anymore. 

"D'you mind if I sit here?" the brunette looks at you with a sweet smile. or maybe it's a "i want you in my bed"-smile. you don't know and you're not able to look at her for more than 3 seconds but you still manage to answer her. "no, of course not! have a seat please." she spares no time and sits next to you. closer than she should. but the brunette's not invading your personal space, she clearly knows what she's doing. 

"My name is Natasha. Can I buy you another drink?" after a quick look at your glass, you smile at her and nod. she turns to the bartender and asks him to get you the same drink. "I'm (Y/N). Thanks for the drink, Natasha." Her name rolls out of your tongue and you wink at her. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the way she looks so nice, so beautiful. Her eyes dart to the birth of your thighs, your short skirt riding up but Natasha's eyes move back to your face. You both open your mouth at the same time to talk, but a male voice startles you. 

"That's quite a short skirt, baby. Makes you look like a slut, I like it. " Then : 2 reactions. You, on the first hand, sigh and pull nervously on your skirt to make it appear longer. Natasha, on the other hand, stands up abruptly. And in the background, you can see 2 dudes standing up, more slowly, looking at Natasha. You assume they're her friends. They don't move. They just stand up while drinking some of their beers. Your eyes quickly move back to Natasha, and she's standing really close to the guy. "Do you think that's something appropriate to say to a woman, dickhead?" Her right hand finds a place on your shoulder, and the dude gives her a funny look. "You defending your little girlfriend is really cute, but do you think you're really scaring me ?" You honestly expect her to call the security, or to call her two really tall friends for backup. But Natasha just turns her head to look at you. 

"Sweets, take a step back for me please." if it weren't for the really tense situation, you'd become as red as a tomato and fall on your knees. But you do as you're told, and form the corner of your eyes, you see her friends taking a step forward. And then, the hot brunette swings. Her fist definitely breaking his nose. He stumbles back and she doesn't give him the time to punch back before she whistles for security, while backing up to stand in front of you: and really close in front of you. You're pretty sure she can feel your chest against her back.

When you asked her how you could repay her, she just asked for your number and a date. This is when and where your love story with Natasha begins. 6 years ago. In a bar in San Diego. And damm, unlike men, she didn't get tired of your mini dresses, or of your crop tops. and let me tell you, she LIKED your low-rise jeans.

At first, dating her was hard. She graduated from Top Gun one year ago, and now she was getting stationed around the world. But every day when she had her phone, she would ask you to send her your outfits of the day. Even if you stayed all day in pajamas, she wanted to see it and would text you: "i want to see you do a little twist to show me your outfit !!" and she would hype you up everytime. "your ass looks so good in those low rise jeans, baby, i love those, wear them during our next date okay" and you would.

she didn't break up with you after a month, which was something. and you couldn't help but feel self conscious, even after being with her for 3 years, just because someone commented on your outfit at the grocery store. she hadn't asked you to dress more modestly and you were a little worried. maybe she wanted to date someone who was “meet the parents worthy.” so you asked her about it.

"Are you sure you don't mind me wearing this top? it barely covers more than a bra." your girlfriend opened her mouth to answer but you didn’t let her. “Nat, I can understand. It’s fun to date me and my outfits but wouldn’t it be better if I dressed more modestly? Like higher jeans ? Longer tops? You know? More parents meeting worthy.” the brunette suddenly stood up and kissed you. Sure, y’all had sex, y’all kissed but this was another type of kiss. It was full of passion and…anger. “Oh my god, can you let me talk? I don’t care about your jeans, I don’t care about your tops. I like them. You’re my hot girlfriend that I love and it’s all that matters. I don’t know what has gotten into you but you are parents meeting worthy. you are worthy of everything.”

Maybe you were about to cry, maybe you felt like you fell in love with her again, but you were trying so hard to hold those tears. But when she pulled away and furiously browsed into her wardrobe before taking a pink velvet box out of it you were definitely crying. “Sweets, you deserve the world and I want to marry you. Please, be my hot sexy wife instead of my hot sexy girlfriend?” She didn’t get on one knee, she didn’t propose to you on the beach, but she proposed to you when it felt right. and you said yes. 

Later that night, when you were cuddling against Natasha’s naked body, she grabbed your chin to make you look at her. “oh and by the way, miss soon to be Trace, you should know this by now, but you can wear whatever you want, I know how to fight.” your fiancée added with a wink. And god damm, this was the sexiest thing she ever said to you. Not knowing if you should jump on her bones again or cry because she was the best thing that happened to you, you decided to straddle her lap, before pressing a hundred kisses to her face. 

When “Phoenix” got called back at Top Gun, you’ve been married for 3 years. For the past years, you’ve been moving with her around the world: and you thanked your 15 years old self for choosing to be an architect. Wherever she got stationed, there was work for you. So naturally, you moved with her toTop Gun. The “house” you got was small, smaller than usual military houses, but this was Top Gun: a school, not some usual stationnement. One thing never changed: she looked so damn hot in that uniform. Especially when she was walking through the bar with a hand on your, naked, waist. not that you were naked, but mid-rise jeans and crop top left your waist naked. Natasha was leading you to the bar when someone caught her eyes and she changed direction. “Nat, where are you going? Let’s get a drink before playing pool.” The brunette squeezed your waist before throwing you a smile. that smile. “I’ve got to introduce my sexy hot wife to some friends, come on. I’ll get you a drink after, sweets.” and then. you’re not confident anymore. you pull your top down to cover more stomach. “let’s not. you look amazing.” she grabs your hand, stopping you from pulling your top down.

She stops in front of a group of men and a woman all dressed the same as her. The blonde whistles at the both of you. Natasha tenses up and you press yourself onto her a little more. “Phoenix.” “Bagman.” “Who’s that?” Suddenly, a smile appears on her face and she grabs your left hand to show it to everybody. “My wife.” Cheers erupt from everyone, and you can’t help but hide your face in your wife’s neck , the biggest smile ever on both of your faces.

you liked dilfs. as your friends liked to call them. and yeah, you liked older men, but not only dads. your first boyfriend was 3 years older than you: you were 21, he was 24. your second boyfriend was 6 years older than you: your 23 self with his 29 self. and the older you became : the bigger the age gap was.

you had limits though. older than 50 was a no. but now that you were 30-ish…you could work with 60 as your limit. especially when that boy-or rather man was looking this fine, drinking his beer.

you didn’t know how old he was: but with a face and a toned body like that, that dilf can do whatever he wants to you. your friend, juliet, followed your gaze before smacking your shoulder.

“go for it, RC, saw him in the sick bay yesterday;shirtless;and if you don’t make your move, i will.”

“RC”, your call sign: standing for reverse cougar, given so nicely by Hangman and Coyote when they learned that you liked older men. and your friends doesnt have to tell you twice.

you walk towards the man, sliding your empty glass to Penny with a smile. When she follows you with her eyes; she smiles and winks at you, giving you a thumbs up.

You sit on the bar next to that mysterious and sexy man. “Penny, I’ll have whatever hottie over here is having.” Tonight’s dilf smiles, and put his phone on the counter, opening his mouth to speak up before the bell rings.

He looks around confused, and you just point the sign with your finger.

"you’re hot, but you need to learn how to read.”

“stop calling me hot and ask for my name, darlin’.

“Sure thing, what’s your name?”

“Maverick.”

You look at his jacket, and it clicks in your head. a hottie and pilot? that’s 50/50. he’s hot and older than you:great. but he’s a pilot:meh.

“oh so we’re playing with call signs, now? mine’s RC.”

"RC…?”

you wink at him before changing the subject.

“anyways, hotshot, how about you give me a name I can scream? call signs aren’t my things in bed.”

and his laugh breaks the ice finally: hopefully he ends up breaking other things, like your back, quickly enough. Seresin comes up to Maverick, patting his shoulder before thanking him for the free beers. In your mind, you note to thank him for that amazing pick up line he used on you years ago.

“alright: the name’s Pete. You need to tell me yours and what your call sign means…: I can’t be disadvantaged..”

Grabbing your stool, you drag it closer to Pete: an amazing name to moan in name, by the way, and make your knees touch as your face gets closer to his. You’re pretty sure you can count his eyelashes by now.

“It’s (Y/N) and RC stands for reverse cougar.”

He slides his card to Penny without breaking eye contact: and god, he’s so hot, and there’s only one thing you want to do right now: roam your hands on those fucking broad shoulders.

"maybe you should prove it. i know a bunch of pretty girls like you pretending to like older men when they only like 30 years old dads…"

"my roommate's not here tonight, so mine?."

your instructor was late, like you, but so weren't the worst here since he hadn't gotten here yet.

"hey, RC, great night?"

"i should give you his number: pretty sure he can give you some tips on how to make a girl cum."

you sit, fist bumps halo and phoenix, before waiting for cyclone and your teacher to enter the room. footsteps. that's all you can hear in the silent classroom.

but when you see him: you hope your teammates can't see the way your thighs involuntary press together. he looks at you, then at Rooster, who looked kind of sad or angry or who cares, and at hangman, who was just as shocked as you.

the dude who paid for his beer yesterday and whom he called grandpa was his instructor ?

the dude who fucked you so good last night and left your bed like 2hours ago is your instructor?

The sound of your feet thumping against the treadmill, as Doja Cat’s music is blasted in the background. “Best friend” starts and you fasten your pace. You hated running. Really. But, after quitting the navy: you didn’t move as much as before, and your body was getting weaker. So running and musculation is it. You didn’t really mind the physical changes, but to be able to teach at Top Gun, you needed to be in shape. You were still kind of in the navy; but not on the field. And it was sort of boring. Maybe that’s why you were always running. To escape boredom. After almost 25 years of service, you had to quit, not because of your admirals, even if they were really for your retirement, but because during your last year of service, you got shot, and hit your leg badly. Don’t get this wrong, your leg is perfectly fine, and if you wanted, you could have continued flying. However; you didn’t feel like it. You felt like your accident was a sign; that you weren’t worthy anymore of your mates’s trust. So you quit, with honors as Commander (Y/N) “Rocky” (Y/L/N). Let’s say your little girl was pleased to have you home more often, and was even more pleased with your house in Fightertown. 

Speaking of, she busted into the room. “Mooom!” “Yes, Judith.” You didn’t turn your head, just kept running. “There’s two grumpy dudes outside our house, they want to see Commander (Y/L/N), which is you.” Sighing, you stepped out of the treadmill and turned off the music. Quickly drinking some water, you followed your daughter. You frown when you see nobody inside, and frown even more when you open the door to see Cyclone and Warlock. “Judith, why did you close the door on our visitor?” “Was I supposed to let them inside? I don’t know them!” Your teen throws her arms in the air, and you shoo her away with your head. 

“Cyclone, Warlock, what can I do for you?” The two vice-admirals share a look, before Cyclone opens his mouth with his brows furrowed. “Commander, I know you’re retired. But, we need the fastest pilot alive for this.” You shake your head, arms folded on your chest. “No, I’m retired for a reason. I’m an instructor now. At your school, Cyclone.” This time, Warlock steps in. “Rocky, this is serious, we need you to save 2 pilot’s lives. They’re stuck in enemy territory.” You lean on the door edge, sighing even more. “Call Maverick, sounds like a mission he would like.” “Rocky, Maverick’s the one stuck in enemy territory.” 

Fuck it.

“Alright, here’s the brief. This is going to be hard. Our pilots went by the hard way,” Cyclone hands’ trace around the map. “But you’re taking the long and easier way.” A blonde man speaks up. “Just send me. I’ve done the training, this will be easier than sending her.” You furiously turn your head, before taking your Commander voice. “It’s Commander (Y/L/N). Not her. I understand your concern but I’m still your fucking superior…Hangman.” You read quickly on his helmet before turning back to Cyclone. “I can do it, but I’m going by the easier way.” Hangman turns his head, before nearly yelling at you. “We don’t have the time for you to take the easy way, Commander!” 

“Quiet!” Cyclone looks at you, mouth still open, as he was ready to yell. You grab the top of Hangman’s flightsuit, forcing his forehead to yours, obligatory pulling him down. “If you want me to bring your mates home, you let me do what I want, how I want, like I want. So, you stay quiet, and still, like a good boy before I punch you. Let me tell you, they don’t call me Rocky for nothing.”

You explain your plan to Cyclone and Warlock, and the latter looks at you with a smirk. “What?” “Nothing, it’s just good to see Rocky in action again.”

The flight was stressful. Nothing happened but you were getting anxious to go into enemy territory. Suddenly, your F-18 was shaken by an F-14 and two 5th generation aircrafts. “Rooster! Who’s that plane?” “Maverick, Rooster, this is Commander Rocky. I’m here to save you. Well, I was supposed to, but you seem to be doing well” You turn your F-18 to follow the other aircrafts, speeding up to match the dogfight speed.

Quickly, you end up doing loops in the sky to not get shot, again, and desperately trying to take down those 5th gen planes. Let’s say, Maverick and Rooster in this old F-14 were not really helping. Even if they did take down some missiles that were going to take you down. You end up taking one down with a shot you could not have dreamed off. The other one ends up retreats, after hitting Maverick’s plane left wing and yours too.

When the 3 of you make it to the base, you're surrounded by the other pilots, all cheering for you. You quickly escape the festivities, not by choice, because who doesn’t love getting acclaimed like they’re god, but because your leg is fucking bleeding. Seems like something stabbed you in your plane. Another Top Gun instructor, who’s here to celebrate your victory, sees the red on your flightsuit, and grabs your arm to bring you to the medical bay as fast as he could. “For someone who quit because they felt like the field wasn’t for them anymore, you’re quite awesome.” 

When you wake up, you’re in a medical gown, and your teen’s sleeping in the chair next to your bed. “Judith, Judith! Judith!” When she wakes up, she rushes to hug you, throwing herself on you. “Mom! I was so worried! I promise I didn’t call grandpa or grandma!” You chuckle, hugging her close to your heart as she gets comfy on your bed. You look down to answer, but she’s already dozing off. So you just extend your arm to grab the plaid next to you, and cover her. “Mom’s here, don’t worry, sleep well baby.” You were about to fall asleep too, but the nurse came in with a soft knock. “I’m here to check your leg, but with…” she gestures to Judith sleeping next to you. “I’ll do it later, no big deal. But some guy is here to see you. And I say that in the most professional way possible, he’s super sexy. Should I let him in?” You nod, a hand coming to pat your leg to check for any irregularities, but everything feels normal.

“I’ve heard I could come in…” He stops when he sees the sleeping figure on your chest before coming in and whispering. “Can I sit?” “Yes, of course, Pete.” Maverick chuckles and sits in the chair quickly, only after dragging it closer to the bed. He tries to glance at your wound, but he can only look at the cover. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. Dying after saving your ass would be a little too much, right.” The brunette looks at your free hand, and back at you. “Yes, you can hold my hand, Pete.” He grabs it, holding it like you were some glass doll. “First name uh?” “Well, when we first met, you introduced yourself as Pete, not as Maverick. By the way, how’s Rooster?” “Shaken up, but he’s fine, you really had our backs, up there.” You laugh, looking at your intertwined fingers. “Stop worrying, I’m fine, since I’m the best pilot around, even retired, okay? Or else they wouldn’t have called me.” He lets go of your hand to take off the bandage around his hand. “I don’t know why they wrapped me up, I’m fine. How’s your kid doing?” “Exactly like Rooster, shaken up but fine, she’s sleeping like a baby.” Maverick stands up to sit on the border of your bed, and strokes Judith’s hair for a short moment. When the brunette sees you yawn, he stands up, and gets out of the room. “Alright, get some rest, (Y/N).”

Two weeks later, your leg is doing just fine, and you’re about to start teaching again, since your sick leave is almost over. But from what you heard, the other pilots, the one who were on that mission, are still on base because the government wants to do something with them, you don’t know what though, and don’t really care. After a quick text from Maverick, you found yourself walking to the Hard Deck. When you enter, the smell of alcohol and sweats overwhelm you. You brush it off, especially since Penny yells your name. “Commander (Y/N)!” She rolls the last part of your head, and the whole Hard Deck whip their heads to look at you. “Are you limping? You’re good?” “Yeah, Pen, don’t worry, just give me some strong drink. The limping will stop soon.”

Hearing the laugh of your favorite brunette, after Judith, who sadly took after her dad, you start walking toward the group of younger aviators (bedside Maverick). Hangman’s smile fades when he sees you, and you smile awkwardly. “Listen…Seresin…”You read again, this time on the tag on his uniform, “I’m sorry for last time.” Seresin smiles and offers you a hand. “It’s fine, Commander, since it was really sexy.” Popping out of nowhere, Maverick smacks the back of the blonde’s head. “That’s not something you should say to a woman Hangman.” Wincing as you try to walk toward the pool, you smirk at Maverick. “Don’t go around and lecture him when you said worse.” Floyd, with the cutest smiles ever, offers you his seat when he sees you limping and wincing. “Thank you, Floyd.” 

Jake has always been, to his core, a romantic man. Even though in public, when he was with his friends, his family, or even his girlfriends, he always pretended not to be. Maybe it was out of fear of being stuck as weak in the eyes of his father, out of fear of not being manly enough in the eyes of his girlfriends (or his booty calls), but Jake didn’t know what stopped him from acting a little more romantic. It has always been like that. Until you came along. As cliché as it may sound, you brought out the best in him even if he still quite often hid behind his flirty, cocky and arrogant exterior. You were the hopeless romantic per excellence. Always crying in front of rom-com, crying when you read a “really cute and adorable book about two lesbians being in love and proposing to each others at the end while they were running away.” The blonde boy remembers finding you on the couch of the common room during your first training week at top gun, reading that one book. He found you, not sobbing but nearly, book in your lap while you were wiping your tears with the back of your hand. At first, he didn’t see the book and thought something happened to you: he fought the urge to make a snarky remark and instead chose to ask if you were okay. 

“Doll, everything okay?” You nearly jumped off the couch, definitely not expecting someone to enter the room. Awkwardly looking at him, you grabbed the book from your lap and showed it to him. “Yeah…It’s just this really cute and adorable book about two lesbians being in love and proposing to each others at the end while they were running away…Nothing serious…” And then, as expected from the handsome men, he laughed. Loudly. Very loudly. Thank God it wasn’t too late and nobody was sleeping or else he would have woken up the entire base, judged by how loud he was laughing. But his laugh caught the other trainees’ attention and soon enough, Bradshaw, Trace and Garcia were in the room too. “What’s up, Seresin? What has gotten you all worked up?” And fairly quickly, people started to call you Juliet. Like Romeo and Juliet, just because Seresin has found you crying while reading a sapphic novel. At first, you wanted to be mad at him for starting the “Juliet” name thing, but you figured it was better than crybaby, or anything embarrassing. 

When you both started seeing each other, and not dating, because he had trouble saying that word, at the end of the training, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Yeah, he was flirting with everything that had boobs and legs, but everyone knew he was absolutely whipped for you since you rambled to him about that lesbian book. The fact that you were really good at flying did add something to you, though. Since then, the both of you have been moving all around the world : sometimes you were deployed at the same place, sometimes not. But the lovesick puppy Jake was quickly filled the form for you to be deployed on the same base as soon as possible. You may have teased him about it, calling it soooo romantic, and you found yourself falling even more for him when his cheeks got red and he mumbled something about it being “natural and not romantic”. Your relationship was deep, even if he was still flirting as a way to protect himself. You understood that, (even if at the beginning, it caused a lot of issues between the two of you) but wished he was confident enough to not hide his true personality around his friends and family. 

The callback to Top Gun made you nervous, he could see it. Your leg was bouncing, your lip was pressed between your teeth, and you kept checking the hour. Somewhat getting stressed too, he put his large hand on your thigh, sparing you a soft glance. “Darlin’, why’re you so nervous ?” His southern accent brought you back to reality and you put your hand on his. “It’s going to be dangerous. I can feel it, Jake. I mean, the job is dangerous by itself but this is on another level. Why would they call us 10 years later?” And for a second, Jake got scared, not of the dangerous mission that would be waiting for them but he got scared of dying without having the chance to propose to you, to marry you. He brought the ring 6 months ago, but only picked it up 3 weeks ago, before going on another mission. It was in his vanity, hidden from you and he was only waiting for the right time to propose. “Jake?” Your worried voice made him wake up from his thoughts and he tightened his hold on your thigh. “Everything’s going to be fine. You and I are the best pilot in the world, Juliet, well especially me, but you’re a close second, baby.” Bursting with laughter, you slapped his hands, before speaking in a more serious voice. “Thank you for always lightening the mood, Romeo.” He winked at you, blowing you a kiss with the hand that was holding yours, before grabbing it again with no shame. Yes, the texan always had to touch you in any way, which you honestly found adorable, and ridiculously hot. “Anytime, I wouldn’t want ya to seek reassurance in another hot man’s arms.”

“Is that who I think it is?! Juliet and Hangman! The most unlikely couple ever!” Detaching yourself from Jake’s hold, you ran toward your best friend, Fanboy. You directly hit it off 10 years ago and you're the only ones who have stayed in touch after graduating. “Fanboy! So good to see you! Shut up and hug me!” Hugging your best friend close to you, you couldn’t help but grin when he whispered against your ear. “So…Are you Madam Seresin yet or is he Mister (Y/L/N) yet?” You hurried to answer, pinching his arm. “Quiet! I haven’t proposed yet…” When the hug ended, Mickey looked at Jake with a big smile, only stopping when you punched him, and he proposed to get everyone another round of drink. Jake joined your side, and you were quick to change the subject before he could talk about what happened.

You weren’t selected for the mission. You fitted in all the categories, but you fainted in every g-lock training, and after scaring Maverick, the team and your boyfriend, who was nearly going to get on a plane to get you himself, so it was the best for the mission and for you to help them from the base as much as you could. Jake was selected, but only as backup. And when Mav’ and Rooster got attacked by that new generation plane, he was quick to fly to take down that aircraft before coming home, coming home to you safely. You were too afraid of his death during that mission to wait any longer to ask him in marriage. Fuck it. You need to do it right now.

When you asked Jake to go to the beach with you, the blonde definitely thought it was the correct moment to propose. So he grabbed the wedding ring in the velvet box from his vanity, just like you did 3 hours ago, and walked with you to the beach. The setting was beautiful: Jake was dressed way too nice for a walk on the beach but when you mentioned his outfit, he said it was the only clean clothes he had left. You opted for something less dressy so as not to arouse suspicion while wearing something he'd definitely like. And you were right: the first thing he did was compliment your look. You were a ball of nerves. You kept your hand in your bag, which Jake found really weird but didn’t comment on it since he had his hand in the pocket of his jeans. Taking a deep breath, you stop walking, which makes your boyfriend stop in his tracks too. You look at him, feeling hot and nervous as your blood rushes to your neck, the texan looks really confused when you let go of his hand before turning your body so you’re completely facing him. When you get down on one knee, red velvet box in hand, his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. “Jake, I know this is supposed to be the other way around but fuck it, will-” “No!” Your boyfriend takes his hand out of his pockets and pulls out a velvet box, nearly the same as you, before falling to his knees while your eyes start to water. “I was supposed to be the one asking for your hand!” And that’s clearly when you start crying, as the pressure drops throughout your body (hope this makes sense). “You dumb fucker! I thought you didn’t want to marry me!” You close the small box, careful not to drop the ring, and throw your arms around his neck, hugging him close, while still crying in relief. Jake’s strong arms circle your waist, as he kisses the top of your head. “No, darling, of course I want to marry you, I was just about to ask you to marry me, that’s why I was surprised…!” You sniffle, not so beautifully, before opening the velvet box in front of you. The blonde takes a better look at your ring, but refocuses quickly on you as you start to speak, or well, finish your sentence. “So…Will you be my forever Romeo? For good or for ill?” And Jake says yes before kissing you like he never did as the sun slowly sets behind the both of you. When you part for hair, he puts his forehead against yours and whispers, hands on your waist, holding you close. “How could you believe I didn’t want to marry you? You’ve been my Juliet for 10 years.” You punch him. Yes you do. In the arm. Softly. “You yelled no! What was I supposed to think uh!” And as he kisses you to make you shut up: he realizes he’s clearly a hopeless romantic too and he can’t wait to marry you.