#propunk

You couldn't tell? That she wasn't me?

Set in the universe of I Hate Everything About You

Sarah impatiently taps her pen against the surface of the blank page, bites down on the corner of her lip until she's quite certain she's in danger of putting a hole in it.

"Shite," she mutters. She's been sitting in the same position for an hour, waiting for the words to come and so far, she's only succeeded in twisting her hair into frighting proportions in her angst. She'd write a sentence, scribble it out and frustrated, she would end up cursing and crumbling the entire mess into a ball that's currently residing in the corner of the living room.

It was Cosima who had suggested she write down everything she wanted to say to Rachel. It had seemed like a decent idea at the time, or, at the very least, something that would prevent her from rambling like a fool this coming weekend.

Sarah wasn't a planner, per say. She was always more comfortable flying by the seat of her pants, but she'd become more responsible and shit, she supposed. An honest, grown-up job, a house, taking care of Kira and a relationship where she never ran, even if things got hairy. Which they didn't, not often. They got into little rows here and there but somewhere along the way, they'd created a family. For the first time in her entire bloody life, Sarah feels safe.

"I'm bein' stupid, yeah?" She had asked anyone who would listen. "This whole thing...what if she says no?"

Maybe she was shaking up what was already good. Maybe she's not marriage material. Maybe Rachel will laugh in her face. Maybe they're both too damn stubborn and impatient and different for it to work in the long run.

And then there was Kira. She had sat her down one day after school and broached the topic in a round about way, asked her how she'd feel if Rachel became a more significant part of their family. Her palms were damp, her heart racing and if Kira had been at all uncomfortable, she would have seriously reconsidered, but her daughter lit up, a rare moment where her recent teenage angst seemed to fall to the wayside.

"Are you serious?"

Throwing her arms around her, Kira had hugged her fiercely, whispering in her ear, "I'd say that would be the smartest thing you've ever done."

That was all the confirmation Sarah had needed. Now, she had the ring, Alison and Fe approved, she had the bed and breakfast on the coast booked for their anniversary, she knew when she was going to do it.

All she needed were the words. The elusive, impossible words that were refusing to unstick themselves from the recesses of her brain and flow from the pen onto the page and helpless, she lets out a long grunt, ripping up the page into confetti and throwing it over her head.

"I missed you, too, but this kind of fanfare isn't necessary."

At the sound of the cool, droll voice, Sarah juts her chin guiltily in Rachel's direction. "Didn't hear you come in."

"I noticed," she shakes her head, setting down her purse neatly on the coffee table. Her skirt suit is impeccable, a cream linen, and when she slips of her heels with a satisfied sigh, Sarah's up and on her in a minute, her arms encircling the other woman's waist, burying her nose in soft blonde strands.

"Mmm, quite a greeting, I must say."

Rachel brings her lips to Sarah's, kissing her hungrily. In the years they had been together, her comfortability with open affection outside of the bedroom had increased tenfold and Sarah reaped the benefits.

"You smell good," she mumbles into the kiss. "Kira's sleepin' over a friend's house, it bein' Friday n'all, so we've got the place to ourselves, yeah?"

"As tempting as that is," Rachel trails her lips over a particularly dangerous part of Sarah's neck, "I know exactly what it is you're doing, Sarah."

She pulls back, blinking. "Do you?"

"I do. You're trying to distract me." She smooths down her hair, the front of her blouse. "I know something's wrong."

"Rach, c'mon...what could possibly be wrong?"

She worries she's lost her touch; she's become a bloody terrible liar. She's also aware her voice cracked. Not exactly inconspicuous.

"Don't think I haven't noticed how jumpy you've been lately. A little...distant. Spacey. And now this tossing paper into the air. Not to mention that pile of garbage in the corner. There's something on your mind."

Pulling away to sit on the sofa, the mask comes down and when their gazes meet, Sarah can clearly see the worry in Rachel's eyes.

"Hey, hey, look at me, yeah?"

Slowly, Rachel turns, angling her body towards hers.

"Nothing is wrong, Rach. I'd tell you---"

"Sarah," her tone is measured, even, but Sarah knows her well enough now to hear the slight tremble underneath, "that's exactly it. You aren't telling me."

"There's nothing to say. Everything's fine."

Even to her own ears, she sounds forced. Rachel isn't stupid. The last thing she wants to do is make her fret, but if she spills now, the whole plan will be shot to hell.

"Tell me the truth."

Rachel's taken her hand, her fingers sliding into Sarah's urgently and instantly, she's sick to her stomach. Her girlfriend never asks anything of her, making herself vulnerable only because she's come to trust Sarah and that hasn't been easy to come by.

"The truth?" Her throat burns and she shakes her head, breaking their eye contact to stare at her knees. "I'm a right git, Rach. S'what it boils down to."

"I'm sure that isn't correct."

"No, no, it is. Truth is, I've been plannin' something. Plannin' on takin' you away next weekend for our anniversary. Down to the beach...a bed and breakfast a few hours away."

Rachel's expression softens and she cups Sarah's face in her hands. "That's what this is about---you wanted to surprise me?"

"There's something---I was trying to get the words right, but they aren't comin'. I don't think they will because I want it all to be perfect. Can't get my damn foot outta my mouth long enough to untangle em', though. That's the whole problem."

She's most definitely said too much and when she's brave enough to look at Rachel again, the look of realization on her face makes Sarah know there's no going back.

"Now I've gone n'ruined it all."

"Sarah."

The way she says her name stops Sarah in her tracks and swallowing hard against the brick that's suddenly formed in her throat, she closes her eyes, digging up whatever courage she's got.

"You haven't."

"I---wanted to do this the right way," Sarah manages hoarsely, "because you deserve it, yeah? I guess tryin' to get it on paper wasn't workin'. We've never been traditional, have we?"

Rachel's eyes have gone bright and her heart is pounding like a bloody drum, the blood rushing into her ears with a loud whoosh.

"I can't say we have. I rather like it that way."

Sarah realizes she must have gone pale because Rachel gently squeezes her fingers.

"Some traditions, however, are to be appreciated."

With that reassurance, a warmth fills her belly and she holds a finger up in the arm. "Be right back."

"You can still do some of this right," she mutters to herself as she fishes around in the back of her sock drawer for the small velvet box. "Stop bein' a wanker and get it together."

When she emerges, the ring box tucked firmly inside the pocket of her jeans, she extends her hand to Rachel who takes it without further question (a miracle within itself) and leads her outside to the back porch.

Even not being nature people, they've found themselves spending time out here since they've bought the house, watching Kira play on the swing set, Rachel tending to the rose garden she'd so carefully constructed. If someone had told her eight years earlier that they'd be not only living together but that she'd be proposing to Rachel in front of the rose garden she'd spent hours in the dirt building, she would've told them to get their head examined.

But here she is, taking her love down to stand among the muted eggshells and baby pinks of English tea roses, she in her Clash t-shirt, hair askew, Rachel, barefooted in the clothes she'd worn to work that morning, her pulse racing and her vision swimmy as she gets down on one knee.

All this time, spent searching for the perfect collection of things to say, all the hours of worry that she would bungle it up and when she takes Rachel's hand in hers, stares into the eyes and the face she's grown to love beyond measure, it comes to her, flows like water from a stream over smooth rocks.

"Somehow or another, we're here, Rachel. I dunno how or why, but we're here. We've built a good life, yeah? You and me and Kira...all of our friends. My family loves you like you've always been apart of us. And me...I love you more than I knew was possible. Think I'd stopped believin' I was capable of it by the time you came round'. You managed to change everythin', Rach. Spun my whole world on its ear. So, before I go on anymore and have you runnin' for the hills, I'd figure I'd ask."

Sarah thinks she can count on one hand the number of times over the years she's seen Rachel cry, whether it was for joy or in sorrow. She's far less guarded with her emotions to be sure, but for years, she had held everything in and it wasn't an easy habit to conquer. Sarah could understand that, better than anyone.

As she gazes down at her now, tears spilling down her cheeks, Sarah inhales, wiping tenderly at the moisture dotting warm skin.

"Rachel, will you marry me?"

There's no hesitation, no pause and deep down, Sarah can't say she's entirely surprised. For all her anxiety about this whole proposal, she hadn't considered the ultimate truth.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, Sarah. You're stubborn and impatient and impulsive...you send me to the brink and back, quite often, may I add. You're messy and brash---"

"Whoa," she laughs, " yer full of compliments, love. I better not go gettin' a big head."

"Let me finish," Rachel warns, thumbing away more tears. "You're everything I never realized I needed, either. Loyal and kind, almost to a fault. The best mother I've ever witnessed. Seeing how you are with Kira...it's healed something in me that I don't think I thought was possible, Sarah. So, it's a yes. A very long time ago, on a very cold, very special particular Christmas Eve, I admitted to myself and then to you, that I couldn't live without you. And now, I never have to, do I?"

Sarah feels her own tears form and run over. "No," she slides the ring onto Rachel's finger, admiring it in the sunlight of the garden, "I reckon you don't."

I'm a queer writer trying to publish my first novel. I love fandom, but I haven't been active in it for a while and I miss it. Fandoms I've been a part of are Orphan Black (mostly soccercop and propunk), Ghostbusters 2016 (Holtzbert all the way), and Haunting of Bly Manor (Damie is the cutest). When I want something to just play in the background, it's Bob's Burgers for me.

I'm not caught up yet, but I love Critical Role. Imodna is my jam this campaign, but I'm excited to see where Candela Obscura takes us!

Real life stuff, I love cats. I'm a bit of a crazy cat lady. I'm your average neurodivergent, depressed millennial who was diagnosed with ADHD after 30. 😂 Working through therapy and unpacking all the family traumas. It's the funnest.

Let's scream into the void together, I guess?

If you could steal things from dreams, what would you take? A secret: Sarah Manning can bring things out of her dreams. And sometimes she's not the only one who wants those things.