Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You have your ring, right?” Jeonghan asks you at the last second, just before you exit the taxi.

“Yes, Jeonghan, for the last time, I have my ring. It’s on my finger. You can see it on my finger, can’t you?” you respond slowly, calmly, which tells Jeonghan his life is at risk.

“Yes, dear, I can see it on your finger, sorry,” he whispers, patting your shoulder in apology before taking hold of your bag and opening the door, racing around the car to open your door before the driver can. He holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it before bending at the waist to lay a kiss on the back of your hand and help you climb out of the taxi.

You roll your eyes but let him assist you, taking your suitcase from the driver with a smile and a thank you, and Jeonghan slips him a tip before snatching the handle from you and strutting through the automatic doors of the hotel.

You follow at a sedate pace, arriving at the check in desk just as Jeonghan says, “Yes, we have a reservation under Yoon Y/n, it’s our honeymoon,” and he tries to ignore the sputtering he can hear from you.

The employee doesn’t though, tilts their head and raises a brow, and Jeonghan feels you wind your arm through his and rest your head on his shoulder, sweetly saying, “It’s just so surreal still, having this man as my husband.”

He recognizes your tone as your ‘sincere unless they know you’ voice, and revels in the fact that he can identify it, nodding and backing you up, “Yeah, I feel the same way, sweetheart, I still can’t believe you married me.”

Jeonghan hopes the hearts in his eyes look real enough and holds his hand out for the keycard the employee had withheld, thanking them with a smile and tugging you to the elevators.

Once the doors close, you turn to him with your arms crossed and your eyes narrowed, “I didn’t marry you.”

“Then why’s that ring on your finger?” Jeonghan jokes, dodging the elbow you launch at his ribs and laughing, the sound echoing around the metal box as it ascends.

“Don’t be mad, it got us the upgrade,” he soothes, guiding you to the room when the doors open, swiping the card and throwing the door open with a flourish.

The suite is beautiful, a palette of soft creams and pinks, the kitchenette decked out with white quartz counters and a sleek stainless steel microwave and coffee maker. The seating area leads out to a balcony overlooking the coast, little terracotta roofed houses and buildings strung along the terraced cliffs.

Your eyes light up, your lips stretching in a grin, and you race ahead of him to open the balcony doors and lean over the railing, breathing in the sea air as your dress flutters along your thighs.

Jeonghan watches you close your eyes and tilt your face into the sun, and thinks maybe he won't mind being your fake husband if it means he gets to see you this happy for the next five days.

Chapter Text

Jeonghan holds his breath as he stands next to you at the foot of the bed, singular, praying you won’t yell at him.

“Jeonghan,” you begin placidly, “Why is there only one bed? I thought you were requesting two.”

Oh fuck, he’s in trouble.

“Umm, so, the thing is,” he starts, “the Honeymoon Suite only comes with one bed, and I thought it would be too suspicious to ask for a cot, so I thought we could just… share?”

You nod, biting your lips between your teeth and heaving your suitcase up onto the coverlet.

Jeonghan just stands there, unsure of what to do with your non-reaction, and waits for the scolding to start.

You glance at him, unzipping your suitcase and starting to unpack, seemingly confused as to why he’s not doing the same.

“Can I have the window side? And most of the closet?” you ask absentmindedly, sorting through your outfits and laying out what needs to be hung.

Jeonghan nods slowly, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out your game. You’re already in the closet, grabbing hangers and trying to organize your clothes into day and nightwear so Jeonghan starts unpacking too, still suspicious of your lack of anger.

He really expected more of a reaction, considering you have a weird thing about being close to him. It’s not that you don’t like touching, because all of your friends are lovey-dovey with you, and it’s not that you don’t like him, because he’s your best friend. It’s just that you don’t like when he touches you, or stands close to you, or slings an arm around your shoulders, or weaves his arm through the loop yours makes when your hand is in your pocket.

It used to hurt his feelings, and it honestly still stings a bit, but maybe you’ve made some progress if you’re okay sharing a bed with him?

Jeonghan doesn’t know, but he does know that the dresses you’re hanging up are ones he’s never seen before, made of silk and velvet and satin, greens and purples and reds that will look beautiful with your complexion.

You’ve always dressed for yourself, but these are far from your usual style and he wonders where and when you got them, and why he’s never seen them on you before.

He’s not naive enough to think they’re for him, and figures you must have gone on a little spree after he told you of his plan.

You’d thought he was kidding when he brought it up, pretending to be newlyweds so you could get a room upgrade, but it seemed foolproof to him, and completely worth it. You took some warming up, nervous about how convincing you could be, and he fears you’re still not completely on board.

He can’t blame you, it’s a bit risky and slightly dishonest and you’ll have to pretend to be a couple in the hotel, but you’re best friends, how hard can it be?

.

Very hard, apparently.

Jeonghan’s not used to you being so touchy, so handsy, with him, and he has to hold in a shiver every time your hand brushes his arm at the concierge desk. You’re working out dinner reservations, beach bag leaning against the desk and skin smelling faintly of sunscreen, your melodic voice kindly asking for recommendations in town. Jeonghan practices deep breathing at your side, wondering why he’s suddenly so aware of you, and tries not to gasp when you lean your head into his shoulder and tell the employee that he has a few dietary issues the staff should be aware of.

Jeonghan’s shocked you’re taking charge like this, usually you let him make the decisions and do the talking, but it’s like you’re different here.

You look different too, radiant and glowing and stylish in your travel set, and when you tug him away from the desk, he realizes he’d zoned out staring at you.

He does that sometimes, looks at you and lets his mind run, so you don’t question it, just pull him by the hand through the lobby and stop in front of the beach trolley line.

It’s a beautiful day, and Jeonghan can’t wait to get to the water.

He doubts you’ll join him; you’ll probably stay under the umbrella and read your book like always, and he’ll go out to the waves for a while and come back to shake his hair out right next to you just to hear your squeal at the cold water hitting your skin. It’s a tradition he’s kept up since your first beach day, only then he’d brought a whole bucket of sea water to pour over you.

It didn’t go well, and he spent the rest of the day trying to get you to smile at him again.

Buying you ice cream was what did the trick, and ever since then it’s been his go to fix for whenever he fucks up.

The trolley pulls up and Jeonghan lets you board first, taking the bag from you and storing it overhead before plopping down next to you with a sigh.

He already feels a bit tired and considers for once staying with you under the umbrella, wonders if you’d be willing to read to him and maybe run your fingers through his hair like you do sometimes when he’s sad.

He’s not sad now, but it’s so soothing and it’s one of the few ways you let him get close to you, and he can’t think of anything better than your voice in his ears and your fingers in his hair with the sound of waves crashing in the background.

The trolley bounces over a pothole and he bumps sideways into you, noticing for the first time the lack of seatbelts and wrapping his arm around your shoulders to hold you secure to him. Oddly enough, you allow it and even lean into his side, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing.

Jeonghan can feel your eyelashes flutter against his skin and something else flutters in his stomach, something warm and unfamiliar. He doesn’t hate the feeling but he can’t say he loves it, and he would try to figure out the source if the trolley wasn’t currently pulling up to the beach club. The water looks so inviting, clear and blue and beautiful, and the beach is dotted with umbrellas and loungers, employees with drink trays weaving in and out of the clusters of guests.

Jeonghan shoots up out of his seat, jostling you, and apologizes with gentle hands and a grimace before lifting the bag from the overhead storage and grabbing your hand to tug you off the trolley.

You allow it, giggling at how he speeds up once his shoes touch sand, and that weird fluttering starts up again. Jeonghan ignores it, decides it’s just not important right now, and pulls you to what he deems the best lounger duo on all the beach.

.

You’re dozing under the umbrella when Jeonghan returns from the water. He considers waking you up with his traditional wet dog shake, but you look too peaceful, too content. Your head’s tilted to the side, open book resting on your chest, and your knees are pulled up like you’d tried to curl up on the lounger. He wonders if you’re cold, then sees your form shiver a bit when another ocean breeze brushes over your skin so he unrolls his towel and gently drapes it over you. A sigh escapes you and you turn to the side, your book starting to shift off your chest before Jeonghan catches it and slides your bookmark in, storing it safely in the beach bag for when you wake up. He knows he could go back out to the water, but for some reason he feels weird thinking about leaving you alone and asleep in an unfamiliar place, so he settles in for his own nap, letting his eyes fall closed and ignoring the way he can’t seem to turn his head away from you.

.

Jeonghan is starving when he wakes up, and suspiciously warm. He opens his eyes to find himself covered by the towel and you missing, and he frantically swivels his eyes over the shore, knowing he won’t find you in the water but fearing it nonetheless. You’re nowhere to be seen, and he stumbles off the chair and out from under the umbrella to search the beach, his hair blowing in the wind as he turns in a slow circle. He can’t seem to find you, and he’s starting to get worried.

It’s not like you to wander off, especially without him, and he knows nothing bad has happened to you, but what if it did? What if something bad did happen, and Jeonghan was asleep and he couldn’t protect you and now you’re hurt and alone and probably scared and there’s nothing he can do? He’s trying not to spiral, but it’s hard when you’ve disappeared like this, and it only gets worse when he rifles through the beach bag to get his phone and finds yours instead.

You take your phone everywhere, and it only increases his worry to know that you don’t have it now and that you have no way to contact him if you need help.

He’s wondering if he should call the police when you appear from behind the umbrella, your hands occupied with coconuts.

Jeonghan could throttle you, but he could also gather you up tight in his arms and never let you go, so he settles for a good scolding, just like you taught him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? I woke up and you were gone, and you didn’t take your phone, and we’re on an island we’ve never been to, and I was so worried!”

Okay, so maybe not quite a scolding but he thinks he got his point across.

You raise an eyebrow, holding out his drink and waiting for him to take it before settling back down on the lounger, digging through the bag to find your book.

“Jeonghan,” you begin, and already he knows you’re going to admonish him, “You were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you up, and I’m an adult. I’m capable of going five minutes up the beach to get us drinks.”

He sighs, knowing you’re right but also knowing he can’t admit it, so he takes a sip of his drink instead and begrudgingly thanks you for going to get them.

You sit in silence for a while, slowly downing the cocktails and taking in the soothing sounds of the waves, until Jeonghan feels his stomach rumble and disturb the peace.

“Lunch?” he asks tentatively.

.

It had taken some walking but finally, you approach a streetside bistro that Jeonghan believes is worthy of you.

You’d been happy with the four you’d passed on the way here, but Jeonghan was starting to feel a bit bad he’d locked you into pretending to be married to him so he wanted to find the best for you. This one looks really authentic, blue and white awnings and lemons everywhere, signs in Italian boasting the best carbonara on the coast and a chef making pasta in the front window. He thinks he recognizes the name from the travel blogs he’d followed in preparation for the trip and gleefully informs the host you’d like a table for two in carefully practiced Italian, much to your obvious surprise.

Jeonghan may or may not have been secretly learning the basics of the language since you’d brought up this location, through videos, free textbooks, and a trial of Rosetta Stone that he canceled before the charge went through on his card. You’re walking ahead of him as you follow the host to your table so he can’t tell if you’re impressed, but he really hopes you are.

Lately there’s been a separation between you and him, different from the distance you’ve always kept. He’s not sure if he did something wrong or if you’re going through something and not ready to tell him, but he misses you.

Fuck, Jeonghan misses you and that’s why this trip needs to go perfectly.

.

The carbonara was incredible, as was the limoncello the server brought over after the meal, the both of you downing one shot and then sipping another before paying the bill and starting to meander about town.

There are small shops everywhere, filled with clothing and ceramics and knick knacks, and Jeonghan doesn’t even try to fake annoyance at you pulling him into every single one. You spend the afternoon excitedly pointing at things you think he’d like, begging him to buy at least one with puppy eyes and a quivering bottom lip. He settles on a tiny lemon pitcher, barely large enough to hold a shot of limoncello but so cute he just couldn’t resist. He also couldn’t resist buying you a matching one, clinking them together in a cheers motion before the employee wrapped them up in paper and handed them over in a small gift bag.

You seem more at ease and Jeonghan feels himself loosen up as well, his moods almost always reflecting your own. It’s not something he does on purpose, he just seems to unconsciously shift to match your wavelength. It feels like something in him is always reaching out to you, wanting to be close even as you keep your distance.

He tries not to think about it too much, how different you’ve been, but your behavior so far contrasts sharply with how you are at home. Here, you hold his gaze, laugh at his jokes, lean into his touch instead of flinching away.

Jeonghan almost doesn’t know what to do with himself, torn between the urge to find out what’s changed and the fear that if he says anything you’ll close up again. It takes little to no time for him to decide not to question it - he enjoys this version of you too much to risk disrupting the fragile ease you have with him now.

It’s easier to interact with you once the decision is made, easier to throw an arm around your shoulders and tug you back to the trolley, to hold your hand tight as you walk through the lobby, to pull you into his arms in the elevator when he notices the other occupant staring a bit too closely at you.

Even easier is falling into bed next to you for an afternoon nap, minds fuzzy from limoncello and bodies heavy from delicious food and a day spent in the sun. Your breathing evens out just as Jeonghan’s eyes flutter closed, the distant roar of waves crashing onto cliffs swallowing his sigh and settling his nerves enough for him to reach out across the sheets and link his pinky finger with yours, inching just a bit closer before letting sleep overtake him.

.

The sun is setting when Jeonghan jerks awake, the incessant buzzing of a phone making his face scrunch and an irritated groan bubble up in his chest. He'd been sleeping so soundly, dreaming of something beautiful enough to reignite the strange feeling in his stomach. He can't remember what it was but he wonders if it might have something to do with the way you're sprawled over him, your leg hooked around the inside of his and your head resting on his chest.

You haven't been this close to him in ages and he can feel his heart speeding up, feel it thumping against his ribs as you stir, your cheek rubbing against his pec and your fingers clenching in his shirt. He can't reach your phone without disturbing you but you'll wake up anyway if it keeps going off, and he remembers in the back of his mind that you'd made dinner reservations.

You'll be upset if you miss them, both because you think it's rude and because you're excited for the menu, so he gently nudges you off of his body and reaches over you to grab at your phone.

His eyes widen when he sees the time, not realizing just how long of an afternoon nap you'd taken. It's nearing 6:30 so you have just enough time to get ready and grab a cab, and Jeonghan brushes a hand over your head, letting his thumb trace your brow bone until your eyes blink open.

You look adorable, sleepy and confused and a bit annoyed at being woken up, but your face clears when he shows you the clock.

"I totally forgot about dinner," you laugh, your voice still a bit raspy with sleep and sending a shiver down Jeonghan's spine.

That was weird, he thinks, but the thought doesn't linger as he slides off the bed with you, walking over to the closet and waiting for you to pick out your outfit so he can coordinate his shirt.

Jeonghan joins you at the large mirror across from the bed, fixing his hair as you swipe on some mascara, and tries not to think about how good you look together.

He supposes it's beneficial for the plan, but that odd feeling is back and it only grows when you pull on your heels and reach a hand out to him. He's tangled his fingers with yours before the thought to do so even enters his mind, and he follows as you lead him from the suite and toward the elevator. He can feel how fondly he's staring at you as you excitedly babble about the different dishes the restaurant is known for, and Jeonghan wonders if he should worry about how easy it is to pretend to be in love with you.

.

Jeonghan's still holding your hand as you stumble back to the hotel, your lips tinged with red wine and drawing his gaze. You glow in the weak golden streetlights, your heels clicking on cobblestones and your sweet voice ringing out into the streets. The food was life-changing, linguine tossed in half a wheel of flaming parmesan and topped with freshly shaved truffle, and he pats his full stomach with his free hand, the look on your face as they lit the cheese on fire still at the forefront of his mind.

He hasn't seen you that giddy in months, hasn't felt the shine of your eyes on him or gotten to marvel at the way your cheeks push up the outer corners of your eyes in just as long, and Jeonghan is doing his best to soak it all in. He loves seeing you so happy, so carefree, and somewhere in the back of his alcohol addled mind, he realizes he wouldn't mind being married to you for real if it meant he could keep you like this.

Shaking his head, Jeonghan dislodges the thought and shoves it into a box in the dark corner of his brain, ignoring the way it rattles against the cardboard every time he looks at you. He needs to stop overanalyzing and start enjoying this trip for what it is: two best friends pretending to husband and wife in a completely platonic manner.

And if every step closer to the hotel makes his feelings a bit less platonic, he'll just keep that to himself.

Chapter Text

Jeonghan is suspiciously warm and cozy when he blearily blinks awake, a hand raising to block the light filtering through curtains he didn’t bother to fully close last night. His mouth tastes like stale toothpaste and red wine and his body still feels heavy with sleep, but there’s something poking at the edge of his subconscious telling him not to let his eyes fall shut again.

Oh. It’s you, you’re poking him.

“Why’re you poking me?” Jeonghan questions drowsily, his words slurred and his voice raspy.

“We have that excursion today, remember?” you whisper, your eyebrows pinched together apologetically as you start to slide off the bed.

“Let’s just not go,” Jeonghan mumbles decisively and curls his fingers in your sleep shirt, pulling you closer when you try to inch away. You huff and roll your eyes fondly, manually removing his hand from you finger by finger before countering, “We already paid the deposit and we paid extra to be the only ones on the boat because someone won’t take his shirt off in front of other people. We have to go.”

“Why would I take my shirt off in front of people I don’t know? They don’t deserve to see the goods, they haven’t earned it,” Jeonghan sasses you but starts to roll toward the edge of the bed.

“Oh, but I have?” you ask in a teasing voice, likely expecting him to tease you back, so he decides to shock you by responding truthfully, “Of course you have, you’re my best friend and fake wife. If anyone deserves to see me naked, it’s you.”

The only sign that you’re even a little bit flustered is the minute tremble of your fingers as they sort through your clothes but Jeonghan revels in it nonetheless. He feels a bit less smug when he spots the bikini you take into the bathroom and the flouncy little dress you exit in.

.

You make it to the dock with a few minutes to spare, minutes Jeonghan spends posing for the pictures you insist on taking. He’d been reluctant at first but you said the blue of the ocean made him look pretty and he was sold, a bit unused to such blatant compliments from you and wholly unprepared for how his heart would lose rhythm with your next one.

“You look so handsome with your hair long, like Prince Eric,” you say absentmindedly as you lean against the railing of the dock and scroll through pictures. Your eyes are on your phone, thankfully, because Jeonghan can feel his ears and the back of his neck heat up, feel the wideness of his eyes and his heart in his throat, and there’s no way you wouldn’t notice if you so much as glanced at him.

He’s not prepared to confront the feelings he’s been having for you lately and sighs a breath of relief when La Luce Stellare drifts up and a spry Italian man pops out of the cabin and shouts, “Siete gli sposini, no?”

“Ummm,” you begin, unsure of what exactly had been asked.

Jeonghan, however, recalls some mission specific words he’d learned and shouts back through cupped hands, “Si, sono Yoon Jeonghan e questa è mia moglie, Yoon Y/n!”

He turns to find your shocked eyes locked on him and blushes further under your gaze, defensively whispering, “Rosetta Stone had a unit on marriage, it’s no big deal.”

You don’t seem to agree, scream whispering, “Jeonghan, that was really good!” as he boards the boat and helps you over the gangplank, his hands holding steadily to yours and his attention focused anywhere but on you. Though it’s not exactly a rare occurrence, he still clams up when you praise him, still feels his face flush and his heart race. He’s able to brush it off from anyone else but when it comes to you, it’s like he forgets how to behave like a human adult.

You never push or call it out though, just let him get shy and look on with a fond smile, like you’re doing now, and he loves you for it.

In a friendly way, of course.

.

The water’s a bit choppy but the sun is warm and golden, reflecting off the crystal bellini glasses and dancing on the waves. After bringing out some charcuterie and a pitcher of peach bellini, the captain smiled and retreated to the wheel. The listing had said very clearly that this isn’t a tour and would include food only, no commentary or information, which is exactly why Jeonghan chose it.

He just wants to relax with you, rock and drink the day away on a boat off the Amalfi coast, and it seems that’s what he’s going to get. You’re sipping your drink and slowly applying sunscreen as you chat about your plans for the next day, opening your mouth every so often for a bit of prosciutto or parmesan, which Jeonghan gleefully feeds to you. It could just be because your hands are greasy but Jeonghan prefers to believe otherwise, hoping that you’re finally letting him take care of you like he’s always wanted to.

It’s not that you don’t allow it at all, but you do tend to be more independent and less likely to allow him to do things for you because you know you can do them yourself. He doesn’t resent you for it, loves your stubborn nature and how reliable you are as a result, though he does sometimes wish you’d be just a little more dependent on him.

He’ll take what he can get for now, bundles up little bites of meats and cheeses and breads as you finish coating all of your exposed skin in SPF 60. You pass the bottle off to him next and he groans, hoping he’d get away with skipping the sunscreen for once.

Apparently not, Jeonghan thinks with a grimace, taking the lotion with petulant hands and beginning to slather himself in it. It smells good at least, doesn’t feel too gross on his skin and even gives it a bit of a sheen, both his and your skin glowing under the Italian sun.

He startles a bit when you hold a hand out, unsure of what exactly you want him to do and cautiously placing his hand in yours. You stifle an amused grin and squeeze his fingers before letting go and reaching out to take the bottle of lotion back, pouring some into your palms and making a spinning motion with your hand until he gets the hint and turns around.

Your hands are warm on his back but the lotion is cold, and Jeonghan fights the shiver that threatens to roll down his spine at the contrasting feelings. You work slowly but thoroughly, your fingers trailing over every inch of his exposed back and making sure to get his neck, ears, and the backs of his arms. You’ve always been very passionate about sunscreen and honestly, Jeonghan can’t complain because not only does it mean you touch him, he also hasn’t ever gotten a sunburn on any vacation with you. It’s a win-win situation.

“Okay, I think I got everything,” you breathe out, drifting your hands over his skin for any dry patches. This time, he does shiver, and he can hear the little puff of air that signals a stifled laugh, turning around to whine defensively, “It was the wind.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. The wind,” you agree in a fake serious voice, your eyes dancing and your lips bitten between your teeth. Jeonghan playfully rolls his eyes and sets his hands on your shoulders, turning you in place so he can give you the same treatment.

Your skin is so soft under his hands, even through the sunscreen, and he suddenly wishes he could touch you without the barrier, run his fingers over the curves and contours of your back and just feel you instead of you plus lotion. He wonders if you’d let him, here.

You’ve been so much more open and affectionate with him, maybe you’re more comfortable with him touching you as well?

He supposes he can test it by letting his hands linger, letting his fingers trail up your spine and dig into your shoulders under the pretense of a massage, his thumbs stroking the sides of your neck. You sigh as your head lolls forward, your body swaying in his grip and shifting closer and closer to him with each wave.

It’s now or never, Jeonghan thinks as he slides his hands down your back and around your waist, pulling you into his chest in an unmistakable hug. You jump a bit but don’t resist, sinking into his body and swaying with him, the boat rocking gently and the sun beaming down on your entwined forms.

“I think I might take a nap,” you whisper, your voice soft and sleepy amongst the crashing of the waves.

“I think I might join you,” Jeonghan whispers back, slowly unwrapping his arms and letting his skin skim yours as he settles his hands on your swimsuit-clad hips, steering you toward the padding on the deck. You move willingly, stumbling a bit when the boat dips to the side on a larger wave, prompting Jeonghan to tighten his grip and walk closer to you. He all but frog marches you to the makeshift bed, guiding you down onto the padding and laying down close, his hand inches from yours.

Your head tips to face him, your eyelids heavy with drowsiness but your smile sweet as you mumble, “I’m glad we did this.”

Jeonghan can’t hold back his answering grin or stop his pinky from hooking onto yours, murmuring, “Me too, baby, me too.”

.

Jeonghan wakes up alone this time, passing his hand over the spot where you used to be and grumbling when he finds it warmed by the sun and not your body heat. He squints against the blinding sun, his head swiveling as his gaze darts around the boat, searching for you.

He almost wishes he hadn’t looked, because what he finds is you on your stomach with your bikini top undone, bellini in one hand and your book in the other. Your skin gleams in the midday light and now that he knows just how soft and smooth you are, he has to resist running a hand down your back after he stumbles over to say hello.

“Lunch is on the table,” you say absentmindedly, most of your focus still caught on your book.

He glances over to find what looks like a sandwich bar: focaccia, pesto, fresh mozzarella, and sundried tomatoes waiting patiently. The charcuterie board has been refilled too, and now there’s a small pitcher of limoncello instead of the bellini. Jeonghan didn’t feel hungry when he woke up but looking over the spread, he’s starving.

He loads up his plate and carries it carefully over to where you lounge, sinking down on the cushion next to you and digging in. It’s so peaceful out here, the sound of the waves masking his chewing and the blue surrounding the boat soothing him into a soft headspace. Like this, he can almost afford to think about why he suddenly wants to touch you so much.

.

The day passed slowly, the boat barely rocking with the speed at which it rounded the island, cliffs turning into small buildings into forests back into cliffs, and Jeonghan’s gaze stuck on you the whole time.

The sun is about to set and soon enough the excursion will be over, but Jeonghan’s not ready to leave this bubble yet. It almost feels like you’re actually his wife and he’s actually your husband, the small touches coming easily and the banter overflowing. You’ve been touching him too, wiping traces of pesto off his lip and squeezing his hand when the waves get particularly bumpy and brushing his hair back when the wind blows it into his face.

And, he’s been touching you.

Reapplying the sunscreen on your back, massaging your neck when it starts to ache from the angle you read at, tugging on your hair when you’re not paying enough attention to him.

Jeonghan’s been touching you all day, and honestly, it’s something he could get used to very easily.

He might already be used to it, Jeonghan thinks with only a hint of apprehension as he approaches where you stand at the bow of the boat, your hands on the railing and your head tilted back. The barely set sun glows gently on the high planes of your face, your hair alight with its rays and your eyes closed against the dull oranges and reds.

His hand covers yours on the railing, slowly pulling it free before he pulls you close, your fingers intertwined with his and your body just inches away, swaying slowly under the muted light of the stars. Fairy lights are strung up, romantic Italian music is playing quietly, and his blood is still thrumming with the bit of sangria you’d shared over dinner. It would be so easy to lean in and press his lips to yours, kiss you just like a husband would kiss his wife.

Jeonghan won’t, can’t, if he wants things to stay the same between you. Your friendship is something he can’t stand to lose, a constant he doesn’t know how to live without, and he truly couldn’t handle it if you weren’t in his life anymore.

But the more he thinks about it, he’s not so sure he does want things to stay the same. Something about this trip has opened you up and he’s seeing you differently, seeing how soft and gentle and loving you can be with him, and it’s not something he wants to lose.

It’s only the second day of this trip and Jeonghan already knows there’s not much he wouldn’t do to keep you like this, free and sweet just for him.

It only becomes clearer after you and him somehow make it back to the hotel, tipsily singing an old Italian love song in the elevator and walking down the hallway with your hands tangled together. You shower first and he follows, sighing when he realizes the cubicle smells like your shampoo and ignoring the skip in his heartbeat when the scent of his body wash covers it up.

He falls into bed next to your dozing form, shifting closer until the lines and boundaries between you blur into something that lets him pull you into his arms and bury his face in your hair, the subtle smell luring him to sleep.

Chapter Text

It’s pouring outside when you wake. The steady spattering of raindrops against the window is almost enough to lull you back to sleep, but the growling in your stomach ensures it doesn’t. You look over to find Jeonghan still resting peacefully and feel your heart both grow painfully large and drop into your stomach at the sight of him.

You feel like you could spend years just tracing his features with your eyes, taking in every curve and angle and crease and mole. He looks angelic, his dark, long hair spread out over the pillow in a fluffy, salty cloud and his trickster smile smoothed out into a soft smirk. You almost laugh thinking about how he always manages to live up to his reputation, even in his sleep.

Unfortunately, the very fact that he looks like an angel makes it impossible for you to disturb him. You know he’ll be a bit miffed waking up without you, but you’re starving and you just can’t bear to rouse him, so you start to slowly shuffle off the bed. You’ve already got your outfit planned in your head so it’s easy to wash up and get dressed before slipping through the door. You close it gently, wincing at the slight click that ensued despite your efforts, and make your way down to breakfast.

.

You’re on your second cup of coffee when you see Jeonghan. You’d gotten a good bit of reading done without him there to distract you and make you smile and make all your blood rush into your face at all times, so you don’t mind his appearance now.

You welcome it, actually, having reached an unpleasant moment in your book and wanting an excuse to stop reading it anyway. After waving him over, you stow it in your bag and take a sip of coffee, trying to pretend your eyes aren’t tracking his every step.

This is a lot more difficult than you anticipated.

You’re not sure why you thought pretending to be married to your best friend with whom you’re in unrequited love would be easy, but boy were you wrong. Every morning that you wake up next to him makes it worse, every day you spend with him makes it harder to hide. And the nights…

The nights are your literal worst nightmare. The bed is big, but not big enough to keep his hand from touching yours. It’s soft, but not soft enough that he falls asleep immediately, meaning you have to have dulcet, dreamy conversations with him until he nods off. And the duvet is nice, luxurious actually, but you still prefer his body heat keeping you warm.

There’s no way to avoid your feelings for Jeonghan when you’re spending so much time with him, and that’s why this morning was such a nice little escape.

He approaches just as you finish your thought and your second cup of coffee, reaching a hand out to pull you to your feet. He tugs until you’re close enough for him to wrap his arms around you in a sleepy embrace, his chin digging into your shoulder and his groan rumbling in your ear, “So earlyyy.”

“But you made it to breakfast!” You cheer, hiding your grunt at having to uphold most of his body weight. “Let’s get some coffee in you.”

You manually untangle yourself from him and take his hand, leading him through the breakfast buffet and back to the table before going off to get two cappuccinos. You’ve long since learned to order your drinks dairy free, knowing that if Jeonghan doesn’t like his or runs out too fast, he’s liable to steal yours. Not having to remember which hand has oat milk and which doesn’t has made the trips back to him much less painful for you both.

You should be but you’re not ready for the half-lidded, full-cheeked grin Jeonghan sends you when you hand over his cappuccino, his tired eyes sparkling and his dimples popping. Your heart starts pounding again and you brace yourself on the arms of the chair as you sink into it, your knees suddenly weak.

Fuck, your life was so much easier when you weren’t obsessed with him.

.

Breakfast passes quickly once you get a grip on yourself, but the rain doesn’t. It’s still coming down hard on the clay rooftop of the hotel, the constant pitter patter lulling you into drowsiness yet again. It’s a joint decision to take a nap, come to by a single meeting of droopy eyes and a nod that seemed more bobbleheadish than human.

This time, you don’t bother trying to keep distance between his body and yours, just shifting closer and closer until you can drop your heavy head on his chest and let your eyes fall shut. His fingers play with the ends of your hair, grazing your back every so often, until you start to drift off.

He’s so warm, so soft, smells so good, shouldn’t get too close, can’t get too close…

.

The pouring rain has slowed to a slight drizzle when Jeonghan wakes you. His hand is gentle on your face, his eyes full of something you don’t recognize and his smile fond in a way you’re not familiar with. It makes you shy, makes you want to look away, avoid his gaze lest he peer inside your brain and find the embarrassing, exhausting, frustrating love you hide from him.

But you don’t look away. You let him look, let him see, and you can tell he’s almost figured it out when you shutter closed again, forcing a playful smile and reaching up to poke his nose. With the tension broken, he laughs freely, his own deceptively strong fingers going for their favorite tickling places. You curl up like an armadillo, trying to avoid his torturous touch, but he unfolds you with those tenacious hands and pins your arms above your head, his knees pushing yours together so you have no escape. That also means he has no freedom to tickle you, and that you’re both panting on a bed and staring into each other’s eyes, which is far from friend behavior. You don’t know what to do, don’t know how to look away, how to get away, or if you even want to.

Jeonghan makes the decision for you, clearing his throat with a cough aimed away from your face as he lets go of your wrists and tips over onto his back. The silence is a bit stilted, the white noise of the sprinkling rain dulling the sharp edge of it. He takes a breath in before explaining, “Our walking tour of Cinque Terre got canceled because of the weather. I thought maybe we could get room service and have a movie day? Maybe build a fort, like we used to?”

Your heart flutters at the thought, his wistful tone raising giddy alarm bells in your head. Your traitorous brain screams, “He misses you!” and you have to remind yourself that’s not why you started pulling away. You didn’t distance yourself to make him notice your lack of presence, you distanced yourself to protect your dumb heart. Figuring out you were in love with Jeonghan threw you for several loops, and it took a while for you to regain your footing around him. Even now, you feel like you haven’t found the right balance between being close to him like you want and staying far from him like you need.

“That sounds really nice,” you manage, hoping he doesn’t notice how wobbly your voice is and hoping further that if he does, he doesn’t mention it.

.

Jeonghan is very specific about pillow forts, you’ve learned over the years. He likes things a certain way and while he doesn’t like to do the work, he does like to oversee the work. Knowing this, you absolutely should not be as exasperated as you are, but as it stands, you feel like pulling your hair out.

This is the third time you’ve increased the height, the fourth time you’ve rearranged the pillows, and the fifth time you’ve bit your tongue at his exclamations of, “No, not like that, the other way!”

You know you have the patience for this, you just can’t find it today, so before you fling the next pillow at his head, you calmly place it in his hands and say, “I’m going to go order the food, and you can do this exactly how you want, okay?”

You don’t stay long enough for his pout to sway you.

.

You’re moving the last lamp when a knock sounds on the door. Jeonghan launches up from his place on the couch and speeds over to the door, bouncing on his toes as the employee wheels in a cart full of covered dishes. Your eyes grow wide at the sheer number of plates, calculating just how much you’d ordered in your head and shaking it when you realize there’s way more than you requested.

“Um,” you begin, but Jeonghan cuts you off with a, “Grazie mille!” as he passes a few euros over in a handshake and ushers the employee through the door.

“Okay, I might have ordered some more food while you were in the bathroom,” he admits, biting his lips and pressing his back flat against the door as if he’s ready to bolt at the first sign of rage. You’re shockingly devoid of anger, however, as you realize that your short temper has made him a bit afraid of you. You never wanted that, never wanted to push him that far or that far away, and it makes you cross the room on unsteady feet to meet him at the door. He watches with nervous eyes, his hand wrapping around the doorknob in preparation, but when you wind your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his chest, his fingers let go in shock.

“Thank you, Hannie, now we have dinner planned,” you warble into his sweater, your voice suspiciously thready and your eyes annoyingly damp. His hands rise to unsurely pat your back, getting more and more comfortable the longer you stay wound around him. It feels so wonderful to just hug him, to be close to him, to not hide your feelings for once.

You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’ve been going about this the wrong way.

.

With your belly full and three movies under your robe belt, you should be tired. You should be ready for another nap, ready to turn in, ready to call it a night, but instead, you feel like you could run a marathon and still have energy for brunch after. It’s been a day of rest and relaxation, and of you allowing yourself to feel your feelings, and that’s what’s given you so much energy. That, and the two espresso martinis you had for dessert.

Jeonghan seems to feel the same way, his knee constantly bouncing and his mouth endlessly running. You’ve talked about everything under the sun at this point, but you still feel like he has more to say and you know you’re more than happy to listen. His ranting about sharing lego sets with other people had transformed into a monologue about the beauty of your current system, where you go to the lego store together and each pick out a set of equal difficulty to complete parallel to each other. You have to agree it’s ideal, and not only because of how cute he looks when he gets pissed at pieces not immediately fitting together.

He keeps stopping though, to make sure you don’t have anything to say and that he’s not bulldozing you, which is sweet, but it makes you wonder why you make him so nervous. He’s always been the talker in your friendship; you’re not sure when he got self conscious about it, but you need to find a way to reassure him. It’s during another one of these stops that you realize the rain has ceased, the dull sound of it absent and replaced with the noise of the bustling streets down below.

“I think we should go out!” you exclaim suddenly, “Like for a glass of wine and some gelato! I want to hear your opinion on the flavors.”

His confused face smooths out in shock before he lights up with a grin, “I have so many opinions on gelato flavors, especially the non dairy ones! There should be more!”

“I agree! Let’s go then,” you beam back, sliding out of the fort to pull on one of your linen sets and grabbing a clip for your hair, figuring it’ll be humid. You throw an extra scrunchie in your bag for Jeonghan, knowing he never seems to have one and also that he is absolutely not good at putting his own hair up. You’ll need to do it for him anyway, so it makes sense for you to be the one in charge of the hair ties.

Jeonghan is nearly done getting dressed when you breeze back into the bedroom, your eyes greeted with his shirtless form and two tops laid out on the bed before him. Your first instinct is to avert your eyes and speed past him, but he calls your name and whines, “Help me choose,” and you’re sucked in. The shirt on the left is a classic white button down, cotton and loose and perfect for the weather, while the shirt on the right is black silk, the very sight of it sending shivers down your spine as you picture him in it.

Your voice is only a little bit strangled when you tell him to go with the the one on the right.

.

The black silk was absolutely a mistake.

Jeonghan looks ravishing, like some rugged dark prince with his sleepy eyes and tousled long hair, the smirk he’s been sending you all night tying the whole look together.

You think he knows.

He has to know, there is, without question, no way he doesn’t know. That when you see his long fingers wrapped around the stem of his wine glass, you wish they were wrapped around your wrists instead. That when he turns to look at you as you’re walking back to the hotel, his cheekbones highlighted in the warm glow of the streetlights, you wish you were alone and on your back beneath him. That when his eyes turn steamy and his collarbones peek out of that black silk, you wish you had him inside you.

He knows, and you know he knows, and he knows you know he knows, and now you’re not sure what to do. Every step back to the bed you sleep in together, back to the room you share, back to the hotel staff that calls you, Mrs. Yoon, feels like a countdown. You’re not sure what awaits you at the end, but you think you might finally be willing to find out.

Chapter Text

You’re quiet on the walk back to the hotel, your eyes warm and heavy on him just like they have been since you stepped out of the room with your hand in his. Jeonghan doesn’t mind, in fact, he’s appreciative that he’s got some time to think about… everything.

Something changed in you today.

Jeonghan isn’t sure what exactly, but he knows something did. It wasn’t obvious at first, especially with how he woke up by himself, but as the day grew longer it became more and more clear.

The first sign was the way you’d smiled at him when he caught your eye in the dining room this morning. He hasn’t seen you beam so freely in years, and the grin you greeted him with was shining, full of happiness and affection. It’s a smile he’s not sure has ever been directed at him and the force of it almost sent him reeling, stealing enough of his strength that he had to lean the majority of his weight into you in an excuse of a hug.

The second was how you hadn’t bothered to pretend you didn’t want to cuddle before the post-breakfast, pre-excursion nap. You’d shuffled right over and plopped your heavy head on his chest, falling asleep not even five minutes into him playing with your hair and rubbing your back. Usually, you don’t get closer until you’re barely awake, and even then you don’t lay on top of him like you did earlier.

The third was the second most jarring. He’d begrudgingly woken you up to tell you the excursion was canceled and instead found himself in a play fight because he had no idea how to deal with you looking at him the way you were. Your gaze was so open, so full of all the things he feels when he looks at you, not that he has a name for them yet. But then you’d withdrawn again, brushing off the moment with a playful poke to his nose that led to said play fight, which led to him straddling you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. The feelings flared even stronger then, with a suspiciously non-platonic tinge to them, and he’d done his own brushing off when he’d felt the ridiculous urge to lean down and press his lips to yours.

That’s just not something best friends do. Not even best friends who are supposed to be married, he thinks with a grumble, somewhat annoyed that there hasn’t been a reason to kiss you yet. He isn’t sure when he started looking for one, but he does know he’s running out of the patience and will to wait for a motive when he should be able to just kiss you because he wants to.

The fourth sign almost knocked him off his feet. He’d called and ordered more room service while you were indisposed, knowing that you’d likely shout at least a little about the insane upcharge and how you hadn’t budgeted for so much. He was fully ready to accept the scolding and promise to take care of the bill when you’d walked to him with seemingly wobbly steps and wrapped your arms around his waist. Your face was smushed into his chest, the fabric under your eyes becoming dubiously moist, and your voice was the most watery he’s heard it since the last time you cried in front of him.

He’d really fucked up that day. It was your third annual best friendiversary, in the works for weeks, and he stood you up for someone he’d only been seeing for a few months. Well, he didn’t quite stand you up, but he did cancel the day before (at their request, for the third time) with weak offers to reschedule. He’d really thought you were fine with it, only felt a little terrible, until Joshua called to curse him out for upsetting you. Josh had never been so mad at him before, his tone relating clearly that if Jeonghan wasn’t his best friend he’d be wringing his neck, and Jeonghan had been honestly, truly fearful for his life in that moment.

He’d driven over to your place before Josh even finished yelling at him, left his car in park, jogged to your door, and knocked as calmly as he could. You took eight minutes to open it for him and when you did, his reaction was visceral. You were crying, your eyes red and your face a bit swollen, like you’d been at it for hours already. You hoarsely murmured, “Not right now, Jeonghan,” before gently closing the door in his face and locking it, his heart wrenching painfully with the click. He’d never felt so regretful in his life, realized then and there that he’d been taking you for granted, assumed you’d always be there for him even if he wasn’t always there for you.

It had taken gallons of your favorite expensive ice cream and a four minute long, heartfelt, teary apology delivered on his knees for you to forgive him.

He broke up with them the next week when they asked (told) him to bail on you again.

You sounded so much like you did then but instead of anger, you seemed to feel… guilty? He still has no idea why - he’s the one who ordered fifty euros worth of extra food - but he’d attempted to comfort you anyway, awkward pats on your back melting into his arms wrapped around you and his body rocking yours. You’d clung to him for a few minutes before thanking him and letting him pick all three movies (The Lego Movie, The Lego Batman Movie, and The Lego Ninjago Movie).

Who does that? Definitely not you, or the you he knows at least.

It comes to him in startling, terrifying clarity. The conclusion is absurd, but it’s the only possible explanation for your recent behavior.

You’re in love with him.

That has to be it, right?

Jeonghan doesn’t need long to get used to the idea, not long at all to admit to himself that he loves it, loves that you love him (he thinks). He wants you to love him, needs you to love him, because it’s so fucking obvious to him now that he’s in love with you. The foundation has strengthened brick by brick, year by year, smile by smile, and all it took for him to figure it out was getting to experience you loving him openly. He wonders if you’ve been pushing it down this whole time, or if it lines up with when you started pulling away. It doesn’t matter, not right now at least, because not only do you love him, you want him.

The black silk shirt wasn’t meant to be a test, but the results are clear: you want him.

You’ve been staring all night, your eyes locked on the bit of skin he’d left visible for you. He undid a couple extra buttons while you were talking with the host of the restaurant, wanting to tease you but unprepared for just how you’d react. There’s something about the way you’ve been looking at him that says you want to eat him alive, and he hopes you won’t mind if he’s just a little starving too.

The hotel comes into view right when Jeonghan opens his mouth to tell you and he decides he can wait a little longer, long enough to get you alone and underneath him again. His hand settles on your waist as you cross through the doors, your flesh warm and soft beneath his palm, and he tries to pretend he doesn’t want to move it both higher and lower in front of the whole lobby. The chorus of “Buona sera, Signor e Signora Yoon!” is literal music to his ears, a song he wants to hear every day for the rest of his life, and he promises himself that by the end of this trip, it’ll be the truth.

Is it a little rash to admit he wants to marry you for real after only two days of being fake married to you? Yes.

But, all of his best decisions have been made on the move, Jeonghan thinks as you near the elevator.

Like going up and talking to you at that party all those years ago. You’d looked miserable and he’d wanted to cheer you up a bit, so he’d appeared next to you with an unopened beer and a smile. You’d seemed like you didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone, but he wore you down with his teasing and giggles until you were laughing with him. He knew it was soon to invite you back to his place but he had a lego set that needed finishing and you’d just admitted that you almost liked to sort more than you liked to build, and he needed the extra hands. And the intelligent, gorgeous, sparkling company.

Another impulsive decision was telling the staff during booking that you were newlyweds and it was your honeymoon. He was angling for the upgrade, sure, but he also wanted the added fun of lies and deception on this trip, and this was the perfect way to achieve all three. Now look at him, in love with his best friend and wanting to be your actual facts husband. Not a bad turn of events, in Jeonghan’s opinion.

The ding of the elevator arriving breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him jump, his hand squeezing your waist in surprise before you step into the metal box together. You’re alone, for once, and the tension feels stifling. It’s like a hot, heavy blanket over the both of you, the knowledge that you want each other and now both of you know. He wonders what will happen when you get up to the Honeymoon Suite, knows what he wants but doesn’t know exactly what you want, and fuck, is he itching to find out.

The walk (run) down the hallway feels endless, his hand slipping from your waist to hold tight to yours and practically drag you behind him as he speeds to the room. Suddenly, he feels like there’s no time to waste, like the seven years he spent being your best friend were perfect but just not enough. He needs to be yours now, needs you to be his, needs you needs you needs you. You seem to agree, your free hand fumbling with the keycard and your body near vibrating with anticipation. The lock finally clicks open and Jeonghan tries not to bodily push you through the door but he’s desperate, frantic to feel you like this. It’s a travesty that he’s spent all this time knowing you in nearly every sense but this one, and he’s looking to rectify that immediately.

It shouldn’t be difficult, your dress looks easy enough to remove and though he’s a bit out of practice, he doesn’t see how anything could go wrong. You’re his best friend, he’s seen you at your worst and you’ve seen him at his, and no moment with you could possibly be awkward for long. He’s already unbuttoning his shirt when you turn around to face him, your fingers twisted up in the hem of your dress and your eyes nervous. You must be gearing up to confess to him and he wants to make it easier on you, he really, really does, but the idea of getting you to say you love him first is just too delicious to pass up.

His hands still on his buttons when you come closer, the deep, calming breaths you take making your breasts rise and fall in a way so tantalizing he almost misses the quiet sound of his name on your lips. That’s delicious too, something he wants to hear many more times throughout the night, though preferably without the anxiety clouding your voice.

“There’s something I should tell you. I feel like you already know but I’m scared to say it anyway, so you have to promise not to laugh,” you warn him, your tone stern but your gaze full of fear, “And if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all!”

Jeonghan tries not to giggle at your fear, holding his pinky out with his lips bitten between his teeth to stifle the smile in an action nearly as old as your friendship. You inhale several more lungfuls of air before visibly steeling yourself and all but shouting, “I’m in love with you and I have been for an embarrassingly long time and I feel like I’m going crazy!”

Hearing it directly from you is so much more impactful than simply thinking it himself, his knees growing weak and his body having to lean back against the door for stability. You almost sound angry, as if your feelings for him are a problem, and most of the puzzle pieces fall into place. The way you distanced yourself from him, the way you stopped being affectionate with him, the way he’d flirt with you and watch you melt then turn to ice. What doesn’t make sense is why you think that.

Don’t you know that you’re the most important person in his life? That when he wakes up, he wonders if you’re still sleeping. That when he turns in for the night, he wonders if you’re going to bed too. That when he’s away from you for more than a few days, he starts to miss you like he’ll never see you again. That when he hears you’re going on a date, he wants to run at least three levels of background checks on them and make sure they’re good enough for you. That he has a list of requirements for your future partner, and huh, somehow he checks all the boxes. He should have guessed by now that no one could ever be better for you than him, and he’s thankful that you figured it out because he might never have.

“I’m in love with you too, you beautiful dummy. Isn’t it obvious?” He replies sincerely, with the slightest tinge of a jest behind his words.

“Don’t call me a dummy! You’re the one who only just realized how you feel, don’t act like I can’t tell!” You reprimand him, like you haven’t actually processed the first part of his sentence and only focused on the dummy part.

He supposes he shouldn’t have called you a name in the middle of his love confession, but that’s just who he is as a person and you should be well aware of this by now. It’s honestly not his fault if you’re not and he’s about to tell you so when your eyes widen and you smack his arm with a sharp palm.

“And what do you mean you’re in love with me too?”

“I mean that I love you, and I want to be in a romantic relationship with you, and I want to have sex with you.” And he wants to marry you, but he’ll leave that part out for now. He’s not sure you’d believe him, anyway. He says all of this very matter of factly, only his eyes betraying the sheer joy and adoration and lust swirling within him. He wants to sweep you up into his arms and throw you on the bed but senses you need a bit more time to come to terms with his feelings, and it’s almost funny how confused you are when he thought you’d be ecstatic. This is something he should have seen coming, should have known you wouldn’t take his words at face value after how many times he’s tricked you, but he’s being for real this time.

He really, really loves you, but you still look apprehensive, your eyes squinting just a bit and your lips pushed out in wariness as you consider what he’s said. You seem to decide to trust him right when he’s about to fall to one knee and vow his eternal devotion, and he sighs in relief at not having to dirty his pants or struggle to get up from kneeling. You’re moving closer and closer and he knows he should make this easy for you, but he can’t resist teasing you just a bit more by leaning his head back against the door and waiting for you to come to him. Your glower tells him you know but he’d hoped you would, hoped to show you that he’s the same person he’s always been, your person, your Hannie. There’s nothing to be afraid of, especially not from him, and he’ll always be willing to remind you. By teasing you, of course.

He’s got lots of plans for you already and they all start like this, with him smirking and you pouting as he makes you do the work. He’ll take over soon enough, take such good care of you, you’ll be boneless and breathless underneath him, but for now, he’ll let you make the moves. He likes the ones you’re choosing, one hand coming up to rest on his chest and the other hooking into his belt loops. You’re so close he can almost taste you, breathe your air like it’s his, but he needs you closer. He needs you closer and you’re taking so long, like you have all the time in the world and he’s not currently vibrating at just the thought of kissing you.

Oh, now you’re teasing him.

He figures it out just a bit too late to claim it was on his own, the smirk painted on your lips telling him all he needs to know. This is something else he should have expected. He should have realized that you always know his game, always know his angle and, thus, how to subvert his expectations so he’s the one left guessing. He happily concedes, playing into your hand and pressing his mouth to yours with a sigh. Losing has never tasted so good or felt so right, your lips lush and your body warm against his.

The feeling leaves his mind spinning, his feet untethered, his hands famished. He’s always loved kissing, but this is something else. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to someone, ever felt to you, and that makes it all the more dizzying. He can’t get enough, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip before he sucks it into his mouth, his teeth nibbling and his breaths coming faster and faster. He’s practically panting against you but he doesn’t care, doesn’t know why he would when he can feel your knees getting weaker, feel more of your weight leaning into him with every suck and lick. You’re susceptible to him in this as in everything, and Jeonghan plans on taking full advantage by kissing you into a stupor and getting you to say you love him again.

That might be difficult when he’s not willing to let you part with him long enough to get the words out, but he’s nothing if not resourceful.

Chapter Text

Jeonghan tests his limbs, finding them all awake and only slightly sore as he starts to wiggle out from beneath you. He’s not sure how long it’s been, the alarm clock on his side of the bed unplugged, but he does know it’s been at least ten minutes since you fell asleep. He’d waited to see if the situation would resolve itself but, unfortunately, he’s still fucking hard.

He’s not upset with himself, because who wouldn’t get turned on after two hours of making out with you, but it is rather annoying. Jeonghan really just wants to go to sleep but now he has to sneak off to the bathroom and jerk off with shitty hotel lotion while desperately hoping he doesn’t wake you up. At least he gets to think about you guilt free.

This will be the third time he’s jerked off with you on his mind. The first happened after you’d gotten to know each other but before you got close. There was a group beach day and once he saw what your clothes were hiding, he knew he was in trouble. He didn’t feel too bad about that one, just a little regret about getting off to the thought of someone he’d like to call a friend.

The second was tinged with shame, frantic and fast and messy, and he’d had to return to you and hope that you had no idea what he was doing. It was at one of your Best Friends Sleepovers and, embarrassingly enough, he got hard because you let him rest his head on your thighs. In his defense, you were wearing shorts and you’d showered earlier so you were all soft and you smelled so good and your thighs were so plush under his cheek. He couldn’t help the way his thoughts strayed to how they would feel around his head instead. Pressing up against his cheeks and ears, holding him against you, muting his hearing so all his other senses are focused only on you.

He can feel his dick throb in his boxers as he starts to picture it again, his hand sliding down his stomach and slipping underneath the elastic band to loosely wrap around his cock. He’s hoping that soon he won’t have to imagine, though he’ll wait as long as you need, especially after how long he’s kept you waiting for him.

-

Jeonghan lets out a relieved sigh when he emerges from the bathroom to find you sleeping soundly. He wiggles his way beneath your body, pulling your arm back to its place on his chest and brushing his thumb over your brow. He really must have worn you out tonight, but he just couldn’t help it. You unlocked something in him, the part he’d always kept packed up in a box and shoved in the back of his mind. The part that knew he could love you better than any of the people who wasted your time did. That part made him eager to prove himself, eager to show you exactly how he feels in the ways he knows best, though he only used one method last night. He’s got lots of ideas if you need a little more help believing him.

His head swims with images of you as he drifts off, real and imaginary blending together to form what feels like flashbulb memories. You, waking him up with kisses. You, moving the last box from your apartment into his. You, flashing your engagement ring at some loser trying to flirt with you. You, walking down the aisle to him, a vision in white. He wants it all and with his last conscious thought, sends out into the universe a wish that his dreams will become reality.

-

It’s a gorgeous day, and you’ve decided to spend most of it at the beach.

Jeonghan smears more sunscreen onto your back, the hot sun beating down and soaking into his skin as he lets his hands wander more than strictly necessary. It’s a luxury he can afford now, and the way you giggle when he slides his arms around you and pulls you into his chest only makes him feel richer. He’s been touchy with you all morning, holding your hand and cupping your cheek and pinching any part of you he can reach, but you don’t seem too bothered. In fact, you seem freer than he’s ever seen you, and it occurs to him that maybe the distance wasn’t because of something he’d done but because of your feelings for him. He still wishes you’d talked to him, but he can’t blame you for freaking out and pushing him away, not when he knows you have a tendency to ignore problems until they solve themselves or get so bad you have to deal with them.

This doesn’t fit neatly into either category but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Jeonghan knows you’re in love with him and you know Jeonghan is in love with you. He’d expected the dynamic to shift but it’s the same, if only more affectionate and flirtatious, and he can’t wait to see how your relationship develops now. He’s already gotten used to touching you more, obviously, but he wouldn’t mind getting used to kissing you, too.

He starts by turning you in his arms to lean in and plant one on you, the sweet little gasp you let out music to his ears. He’s lucky you’re fake honeymooning in a country known for romance or his fast-growing penchant for kissing you might get him in trouble.

-

It turns out his fast-growing penchant for kissing you has gotten him into trouble. Previously, he was able to walk down the street or eat gelato or sip wine without feeling the desire to press his lips to yours. Now, it’s all he can think about, all he wants to do. He wants to start every morning and end every night with a kiss, wants getting your mouth on his to be his new hobby, wants your lips to be the last pair his ever touch.

It’s very distracting, you’re very distracting, and he really is in trouble because this is the third time today he’s zoned out staring at your mouth while you talk. He should be listening to your words but instead he’s taking in the movement of your lips, the way they form around letters, letters that combine to make his name, and fuck, he loves how you say his name. Except this time it’s followed by a frown, and he doesn’t love that.

“Jeonghan? I’m not even going to ask if you’re listening because there’s no point, but I will remind you that you have to sleep next to me and I have very sharp elbows. Who knows where they could dig in the night?”

“Baby, I love every part of you, even your insanely sharp elbows. Any bruises from them are just evidence that I get to share a bed with you,” Jeonghan attempts to sweet talk you. He can tell it’s almost working, but any cheesier and it might backfire on him so he’ll stand down for now.

Thankfully, you decide to forgive him and the day continues without any more transgressions or threats of elbows in the cover of darkness. You’d had more than enough sun at the beach and more than a wise amount of pasta at lunch, so you’ve decided to spend some time sipping cappuccinos in the piazza. It makes for amazing people watching, and Jeonghan can’t help but notice an elderly couple milling about, bickering in fast Italian as they peruse the market. Their tones are sharp but filled with begrudging affection, and it’s easy to tell how in love they are. He wonders how long they’ve been together, who confessed to who, or if they just knew somehow. He always wonders these things when he sees couples, but it means even more to him now that he has you. He hopes that one day, you and him will grow old and gray together and become the type of couple he wonders about.

-

He’s back to staring at your lips over dinner, not that you notice. You’re too busy looking at the bit of chest exposed by the four buttons he’d purposefully left undone, which definitely was not his plan at all, not even a little.

Okay, maybe it was, but he can’t be blamed if it’s effective! You’re just as susceptible to him as he is to you, and he’s honestly grateful because you’d be far too powerful otherwise. You already have near complete control over him, not that you know it, so he really can’t afford not to use his one advantage - his body. And use it he will, he thinks as he frees one more button when you turn your head. Maybe this will convince you to let him get all three of the desserts he’s got his eye on.

It at least helps him plead his case for the sixty euro bottle of red rather than the forty, and he thanks you with a lusty wink from across the table, his shirt gaping open at the neck and his collarbones glistening in the setting sun. He can see it all in the reflection of your sunglasses, wishes he could see your eyes instead but understands the necessity with the heat soaking into his dark hair. He loves eating outside, feeling the breeze and catching little bits of conversations as people wander about, but he is starting to get tired of just how hot Italy gets during this time of year.

He never wants to leave though, wants to stay here in this handmade heaven with you, where none of your friends are curious about why now and none of your parents are asking when they can expect to become grandparents and nobody is asking when he’ll put a ring on that finger because he already has. Maybe that’s the main reason he doesn’t want to leave, he doesn’t want to return to a reality where you’re not his wife and he’s not your husband. It’s easily rectified, but the difficult part will come in convincing you. He knows he’s got you with the shirt, but proposing marriage is a bit more serious than trying for a more expensive bottle of wine.

Either way, he’s willing to give it a shot.

-

The walk back to the hotel is rife with tension. The cobblestone streets are still sunwarm even as businesses slowly shut their doors, and though the piazza is vibrant with citizens, it feels like you’re the only two people in the world.

It feels just like it did last night, heated and magnetic, your bodies drawing closer together with each step forward. Soon enough, he’s got his arm slung low around your waist and your gaze caught on him like he’d hung the moon just for you. Now, he knows that he would, knows he’d climb up into the sky and pluck however many stars you wanted, all you’d have to do is ask.

You never would, you’re far too selfless of a person to covet a source of beauty just for yourself, which Jeonghan is thankful for because he’s far too lazy to figure out how to get into space. He would, however, devote the rest of his life to studying teleportation if it meant he could get you back to the hotel faster. The anticipation is burning him up inside, searing his throat and flooding down into his stomach, scorching all of his edges like wildfire, and fuck, is he getting hard?

He’s totally getting hard, and there’s still at least five minutes left of this walk. Releasing your waist, he untucks his shirt and loosens a couple buttons on either end so the flowing fabric can cover any rising embarrassment. It’s simultaneously infuriating and the hottest thing on the planet that you can undo him like this.

The situation only gets worse when you cross the lobby together to calls of, “Buona sera, Signora e Signore Yoon!”

Hearing other people call you by his name does something to him, something that makes him grab your hand and make a beeline for the elevators, something that makes him smash the door close button even as another couple approaches, something that makes him turn and back you into the corner of the elevator, his hands on your hips and his lips centimeters from yours.

“Is this okay?” Jeonghan whispers, gravitating closer and closer to you as your eyes slip shut. You breathe, “Yes,” into his lips and he’s gone, pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss so deep it’s like he’s trying to swallow you whole. He supposes he is, wants to drink you up and dress you down and spread you out, and the ding of the elevator reminds him he can do none of those things until he’s got you in the room. He’s speed walking through the doors before they even fully open, tugging you along behind him and bouncing impatiently on his toes as he digs through his pocket for the room key.

The lock turns with a click and Jeonghan all but shoves you over the threshold, backing you further and further into the suite until your knees hit the sofa. You collapse down onto the cushions and he follows you, climbing up to hover above you on his hands and knees. His hair brushes your forehead and he knows you can see all the way down his shirt, but he likes it. Loves it, really. Being this close to you.

“Let me go down on you?” He asks (begs) in between kisses, not breaking from your lips long enough for you to give him an answer. You nod instead when it’s evident he won’t let up, shivers running down his back when you sink your fingers into his hair and pull him away from you by the handful. He’s about to whine but he figures out it’s just so you can suck some marks into his neck, and Jeonghan certainly isn’t going to complain about you wanting to leave something of yourself behind on him.

He does have to stop you when he gets too hard to think clearly, his head spinning and his hands shaking as he gently pushes you back into the couch. He doesn’t want to get his shirt all messy so he hauls it over his head, just enough of the buttons undone to let him yank it off. Your hands rise immediately to lay on his stomach, the hidden ridges of his abs flexing under your palms before he takes both of your wrists in hand and presses them above your head.

“Keep those there, yeah?” Jeonghan requests, his mouth open and his eyebrow quirked as he nearly pants the words out. He’s not used to doing this much physical activity but he’s ready to get used to it with you, even if the journey is a little embarrassing. Thankfully, he doesn’t think you notice his heavy breathing, focused as you are on the faint trail of hair that leads from his belly button into his trousers.

He makes a show of unbuttoning them, reaching inside and giving himself a quick tug before dropping onto his elbows to kiss his way down your neck. You wiggle out of your dress and bra, suddenly exposing so much of your skin, and Jeonghan can’t choke back the moan that arises when he finally gets his mouth on you. You taste exquisite, so sweet with just the barest hint of saltiness from the sea, and the feeling of you is even better. You’re blissfully soft under his hands, goosebumps following his fingertips and his tongue following them, and he knows he’ll never get enough of you. He’ll be happy to die trying though, he thinks as he lavs his tongue over your nipple and watches your flesh pebble, even the smallest of your reactions fascinating to him.

He wants to cover every square inch of your torso in kisses but he’s getting a bit impatient so he works his lips down your stomach and looks up when he hits the barrier of your underwear. “Off, take them off,” you whisper when he doesn’t say anything, groaning and pushing at them when he doesn’t do anything either. He giggles, squeezing your wrists and returning them to their place above your head before pulling your panties down and pushing your thighs apart. He has to lie down when he sees you for the first time, has to rest his head against your plush thigh and just take you in, his brain muddled and his tongue almost itching to taste you.

There’s no reason for him to wait, so he doesn’t. He dives in, licking your folds apart and guiding your wetness from your entrance up to your clit so he can get a better glide going. He fucking loves this already, loves the noises coming from your mouth and your pussy, loves the taste of you on his lips and the feel of you under his tongue, loves the way you can’t seem to stay still, your hips bucking and rolling until he belts his arms over you. He wants you to move but not so much he can’t get at you like he wants, like he needs. Holding you down seems to make you wetter too, so it’s a win-win situation.

You’re so slippery, it’s easy for him to wind his tongue in circles around your clit and start to build you up. This may be the first time he’s been with you like this but it doesn’t feel like it, it feels like he knows you inside and out, like he could pull you apart with a twist of his fingers, and maybe he could but he’ll stick to his tongue for now. It’s like a little challenge, and Jeonghan wouldn’t be Jeonghan if he didn’t make everything a game.

At least in this one, there won’t be a loser. You’ll get to cum and Jeonghan will get to make you cum, and he can always use his fingers if you want to go again, so this is one of the rare times everyone wins. He’s definitely winning, his tongue swirling around your clit and his chin growing wet with you. You’re getting closer and closer, your whines and moans melting into each other until they become one continuous sound, broken up only by your gasps for breath. Your thighs twitch against his cheeks and his mind flashes back to last night, to all those nights ago when he’d thought about exactly this, and suddenly, he needs your hands on him.

“Changed my mind, baby, touch me,” Jeonghan exhales into you, stopping the movements of his mouth until your fingers sink into his hair and he can breathe again. He sucks your clit between his lips and shakes his head, the noises obscene but hot as all fuck as he licks and nibbles you into an orgasm. He wishes he could bottle up your sounds and your slick, but he can keep neither so he just soaks in your moans and laps up your wetness for as long as he can. Eventually, you curl up and push him away, heaving a sigh and letting your damp lashes flutter closed as he presses a kiss to your belly and helps you hobble to the bedroom.

He’s still hard but that can wait until you’re all settled in with a glass of water and the most essential components of your skincare routine. Maybe this time, it'll go away.

(It doesn't)

Chapter Text

Jeonghan wakes with a start, your body heavy with sleep on his and your warm breaths puffing out over his chest. He was having the most incredible dream and, for once, he remembers every bit of it. 

You, in that white dress he’d seen in the store window. You, walking down petal littered cobblestones to meet him at the end of an altar. You, vowing to be his wife and sealing it with a kiss. You, telling him you love him and never want to be apart. 

He wants it, desperately. And not just the wedding part, but the married life part too. The grocery shopping together, the decorating the house, the dinner parties where your friends get too wasted and have to sleep over. The brushing teeth side by side, the waking up together every day, the going to sleep side by side every night. 

He knows there’ll be hard parts, fights and stress and difficulties to face, but it’ll be the two of you against the problem and you’re a team that never loses. 

And maybe he’s a bit hasty in deciding to marry someone he hasn’t even dated, but you’re his best friend in the whole world. There could be nobody better for him than you, and nobody better for you than him. He knows this, and he hopes you know it too. 

He also hopes you won’t be too upset if you wake up alone. He’s got some jewelry shopping to do. 

Jeonghan can tell you’re confused when he returns to the hotel. He was gone a bit longer than he meant to be, missed breakfast without even leaving a note, but if you were really worried you would have texted him. It appears you’re only slightly worried, waiting for him on the couch as you are with a furrow between your brows and your lip caught between your teeth. 

“Where’d you go?” You ask as he lets the door close with a click. 

“Just for a walk, I woke up early and didn’t want to disturb you,” he lies, with probably not enough guilt but more than he’d feel for lying to anyone else. 

“Oh,” you deflate in relief, “How was the weather? Do you think we could get one more beach day in?”

One more. Right. This trip ends tomorrow, meaning the bubble will pop and you’ll return to your normal lives. Jeonghan can’t stand the thought of going back to a reality where you’re not his wife, but if today goes well, he won’t have to. 

“It looked a bit cloudy, but it may clear up in a couple hours. Do you want to go to the farmer’s market at the piazza? We could get lunch and walk around,” he offers, wanting to save the beach until later. 

“Yeah! That sounds so nice, let’s go,” you beam, shooting up off the couch to skip to the bedroom and pick out an outfit. He follows at a sedate pace, almost nervous to see what you’ll choose to wear. You only have sundresses left, and those are deadly to him. They were even before he figured out he has feelings for you, but now he really will be in danger of pulling you into some dark alley and ravishing you. 

You pick one of the less harmful options, a floral dress that flutters about your thighs but doesn’t cut too low in the front, giving him a chance to not lose his mind today. He thanks you with a kiss and a, “You’re so pretty,” before taking your hand and pulling you to the door, eager to get to the market and find something to eat. 

Jeonghan pats his full belly and looks around serenely. You’re next to him on the bench, your face tilted into the sun and your eyes closed as you bask. He’s basking too, but not in the sun. 

He’s basking in your presence, in the ability to sit so close to you and hold your hand like this, in the security of knowing that you’ll still be his when you go home, even if his plan doesn’t work out. 

Obviously, he hopes it does, but he doesn’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for, and if you don’t want what he wants, he’ll just have to live with it. 

He thinks you might, though, want what he wants. You haven’t taken your ring off once, you’ve adapted incredibly quickly to being called Mrs. Yoon, and you’ve already been bickering with him like a married couple for your whole friendship. He knows those things don’t necessarily mean you want to marry him, but a man can dream. 

It almost feels like he is dreaming. He’s sitting here on a bench in a piazza on an island off the coast of Italy . You’re here with him. There are wedding rings on your fingers and your thigh is pressed up against his. He can smell coffee and salt on the wind, the sky is completely clear and the bluest he’s ever seen, and every color seems more vibrant, from the teal of the sea to the ruby of the tomatoes for sale 10 feet away. 

Your voice stirs him from his thoughts, “I wish we could stay.”

One side of his mouth lifts in a half smile before he presses his lips to your temple, murmuring, “Me too, baby, me too,” as he pulls back just far enough to gaze at you. Your eyes are still closed, the apple of your cheek and slope of your nose naturally highlighted by the sun. You’re wearing a little grin, as if you feel his eyes on you and know exactly what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t mind and he definitely doesn’t stop, moving his focus from your face to the elegant arch of your neck and the curve of your collarbones, the spaghetti straps of your dress laying delicately on your shoulders. He wishes he could let his eyes travel lower but, considering the fact that it’s barely noon and you’re in a very public place, he supposes he shouldn’t. 

“You gonna stare all day?” You ask teasingly, your head lolling to the side as you peek one eye open at him. 

“I just might,” he teases back, knocking his knee into yours and pointedly returning his focus to your face. There’s a zip down his spine when your gaze locks with his, a jolt of electricity that used to feel more like static shock.

You nudge back and soon enough, you’re bumping elbows and knees and giggling like kids, completely unaware of the (mostly) fond looks you’re getting from other people. You spend half the day on that bench, just talking and laughing, before Jeonghan realizes you should probably be getting to the beach. 

He jolts to his feet and takes your hand, tugging you behind him to the bus that will take you down to the shore just as it rolls up to the piazza. He’s not tentative about wrapping his arm around you this time, nor is he shy about pulling you into his side when the vehicle jostles you as it makes its way down the narrow streets of the town. 

The sea comes into view slowly, as do the duo of lounge chairs Jeonghan requested. The area around the chairs is clear, an almost comical radius of ten or so feet empty before the sand is filled with umbrellas and loungers. The empty space just makes the duo stand out more, and he winces, wishing there was a bit more privacy. 

He would have taken you out on the charter again, but the captain wasn’t available on such short notice and they wouldn’t give him a boating license after he admitted to intentionally capsizing four jet skis at once, so the beach it is. 

Leading you to the pair of loungers, Jeonghan tries to ignore the shaking of his hands and the unsteadiness of his breaths, hoping you don’t notice either. It appears he gets away with his nerves, your focus on the drink tray and the book waiting for you in your bag. You settle in quickly, reclining in the chair and getting right into the next chapter, leaving Jeonghan some time to get things arranged. 

Okay, he’s got the limoncello, he’s got the ring, and he’s got the list. It’s something he put together this morning because he knew you’d need some convincing of the logistics. You can be a very romantic person but you’re not known for your spontaneity, and getting married last minute on a trip to Italy seems like something that requires a bit of that. So, he put together this list addressing everything from what you’ll do when you get home to how many rooms your future house will have. It’s the most planning he’s ever done and his hand aches with all the writing, but it’s worth it if it helps convince you even a little. 

He lets you read for a while, knowing you have four chapters left to finish so you can read the sequel on the plane. Your distraction gives him some time to try to calm the racing of his heart and the trembling of his fingers, though no amount of deep breathing seems to be helping. 

All he has to do to execute his plan is drop the ring in the limoncello waiting for you. It should be easy, should be stupidly simple, but suddenly, it feels just that - stupid. 

Why would he put the ring in alcohol? You’d have to rinse it clean before you could wear it and then you wouldn’t want to drink the limoncello because the ring was in it, and also what significance does limoncello even have? Yes, you’ve been drinking it this whole trip and yes, it may have fueled some of the heat that pushed you to confess to him, but does he really want to include it in your proposal, a story you’ll tell for the rest of your life?

His method of asking you isn’t even the only problem with his plan. It’s far too hot and far too bright, and there’s too many people on this beach, and you’re too exposed thanks to the radius he’d requested and everything is wrong , and he can’t ask you like this, but then how will he ask you? 

All Jeonghan wants is to be married to you, he doesn’t understand why getting there has to be this difficult. It should be as simple as just telling you he wants to be with you for the rest of his life and asking if he can be your husband for real. 

…

Wait. Why can’t it be that simple? 

He turns to you, his mouth open to speak and change both of your lives, and finds you… sleeping. You’re sleeping, your book facedown on your chest and your head tilted towards him. 

Jeonghan supposes he can wait a little bit longer.

Something buzzes on Jeonghan’s chest, stirring him from a dreamless slumber. His body feels warm despite the umbrella, the sound of the waves soothing him before he can even get annoyed about being awoken. The first thing he does is check to make sure you’re still there and when he looks over to find you unmoved, he breathes a sigh of relief. 

He must have gotten a text, but he’s unsure who might’ve-

Oh. OH. 

This is perfect , he thinks, reading the message and reaching over to nudge you awake. There’s not a lot of time to get to the hotel and then to the docks, but he’ll just have to make it work. 

“Jeonghan, you don’t even walk this fast in the Lego store, what’s going on?” You huff, trying to keep up with him as he speeds down the wooden planks, your hand held tightly in his and your footsteps sounding behind him. 

“You’ll see,” he teases, slowing his pace until you can walk next to him instead, the La Luce Stellare waiting for you just at the end of the dock. The sun is slowly sinking, the warm reds and oranges painting the sky into a perfect backdrop to the gently bouncing boat. It looks like the captain made it even more romantic somehow, with a sheer white curtain arch and fresh flowers all over the deck. 

“What’s all this?” Your voice wavers, your steps slowing to a stop as you near the boat. He tries to tug you further, but you’re frozen where you stand. 

“Jeonghan?” 

He sighs, turning to pull you into his arms and sway you gently, hoping the contact will help you swallow his next few words. 

“This is me trying to marry you.”

Your eyes grow wide, your mouth dropping open as if you want to speak but no words come out, just a strangled sound. 

You cling to him when he pulls away, shock filling your face as he sinks down to one knee with a shaky grin and both of his hands grasping your left one. 

“Y/n… I’m sorry you loved me by yourself for all this time, but I’m here now and I’m so in love with you, I feel like I could do anything. These past few days of being your pretend husband have been the best of my life, and I’m hoping you feel the same way. I’m also hoping that you’ll agree to marry me because I don’t think I can go one more second without being your real husband and having you as my real wife. I’m serious, I’ll throw myself off this dock right now.” 

He relays all of this with tears in his eyes and a sincerity that almost scares him, but what’s scarier is the fact that he has no idea how you feel. You’re just standing there, your mouth open and your fingers trembling in his, as you process his words. 

The longer he waits, the louder the roaring in his ears gets, the sound eventually overtaking his own shallow breathing and the crashing of waves in the background. He thought you were on the same page, but maybe that’s not the case. If this is too much, if he’s scared you off, if he’s ruined everything, he’ll-

“Yes.” You sound quiet, your voice barely discernible with the buzz still filling his ears.  

“Y-yes?” He questions, swaying slightly where he kneels. 

“ Yes !” You’re more resolute now, with obvious joy in your voice, and through his watery eyes he can see that yours are shining. 

The next thing he knows, you’re sinking to the ground and pulling him into a kiss, one that feels like more than a promise, more than forever, one that feels like everything . It sweeps him away before he can anchor himself, has him delving his hands into your hair and pulling you tighter against him as he sighs into your mouth. 

He forgets time exists, forgets where he is, what he was doing before, what he’s doing after. 

All he knows is you and the taste of your lips and the scent of your hair and the weight of the ring in his pocket. 

Oh, right, that’s what he was doing. 

He breaks away from you slowly, reluctantly, before reaching into his pants and pulling out the box he’d chosen this morning. It feels like eons ago, as does the clumsiness of his first plan, and he can only hope he still agrees with his choice of the ring that fills it. 

It’s simple, elegant, but intricate enough to be interesting, just like you. He thought of you as soon as he saw it, and though he’s never been privy to your engagement ring preferences, he did happen to know your size. His fingers tremble as he plucks it out of the box and slides it onto your fourth digit, the diamonds glimmering in the waning light of the sun. It looks perfect on you, and he drags his eyes away from your hand to seek out your face, unsure of whether or not you’ll agree. 

“Do you like it?” He asks apprehensively, brushing his thumb over your knuckles and biting his lip as he waits. 

“It’s gorgeous, Hannie. I love it,” you whisper in response, your voice thick with tears. Relief floods his system, almost as much as when you agreed to marry him, and it’s like the last barrier to being with you forever falls away. 

Well, the second to last barrier. 

Now that the asking is out of the way, he needs to get you on that boat, exchange those vows, and kiss you for the first time as husband and wife. 

Should be easy enough, only the slightest bit life-altering, right?