To my gorgeous fiancé to be,

I'm so excited. I've literally never been this excited in my entire life, not even when they started making double-stuffed Oreos. Every time I see you, I go all squealy, and I have this overwhelming desire to cuddle you.

I gotta be careful though, I'm scared I might just crack and blurt the question at you while you're doing the dishes. You've been doing a lot more chores since you read my letters, it's quite sweet actually, even though after you've washed the dishes, I gotta wash them again straight after 'cause you just dip them in the water then put them on the draining board. But I appreciate the effort.

Anyway, I'm in ultimate secretive mode at the moment. Next week, that's when I'm gonna do it. I've been on the waiting list for this one really fancy restaurant for a while now, and I finally got a table for us. It's gonna be so perfect, we'll have the starter and the main, then just before pudding, I'll take your hand and kiss it slowly, then I'll get down on one knee, and ask you to make me the happiest man in the entire universe. It's cheesy, but it's so fucking true.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm so excited.

-

I'd been waiting a while for an opportunity to start arranging my ass off and make this thing perfect, but I kept being delayed 'cause you kept just being there, like, the entire time.

Then came the phone call.

We were at Bob's house, planning tours and shows and things, but all actual work had been discarded in favour of staring at you, pacing around the room with your phone to your ear.

"No, we did get your email, thank you, my manager just passed on the message - yes, it's such an honour, thank you, I - okay, definitely, if that's okay, yes," you said, speaking fast and clutching the phone with both hands.

We all had expectant faces; we knew what this was about, but nothing had been confirmed and it seemed like everything hung upon your conversation.

"We only wondered if - well, yes, we'll send you anything you need, of course, but - really? Okay, holy shi- smokes, that would be perfect. Two hours? Yes, that's perfect. Okay. Yes, I'll fly out this weekend, yes, that's fine, thank you, no, I - well yes, obviously, no, indeed - I really do, thank you so much, thank you, yes, we'll be in contact. Thank you, yes, just - thank you so much. Okay. Right. Okay. Bye!"

You stopped pacing, and hung up, staring at the phone for a few seconds and blowing out a slow breath. Then, you spun round to face us.

"So...that was Sir Elton John's management..." you said faintly, touching a hand to your glasses.

We all raised our eyebrows at you, waiting for you to give us the good news.

You didn't just give it to us, though, you scooped up a massive handful of good news and threw it at our faces. "He said yes! He's gonna be on the record!" you shrieked, flinging yourself at the nearest human-shaped object, which happened to be Andy.

Andy caught you easily, laughing, and I think you just about throttled him in your excitement, because he very slowly prised you off himself and placed you back on the floor. You didn't stop grinning, though, herding us all into a group hug and squeezing us like we were a not-quite-empty tube of toothpaste.

"So, he said yes, and, and he wants to record as soon as possible, and, and he likes our stuff and I'm gonna go to Atlanta and I'm gonna record him and I'm gonna actually get to speak to actual Sir Elton John and he said he's looking forward to it and I can't believe he said yes oh my god it's gonna be so amazing, and also I-" You were cut off by your own need for air, swallowing quickly and breathing a grin around at all of us.

It's funny, seeing you so happy made me happier than anything else, Elton John or no. At this point, you were pretty much vibrating with excitement, your hat clinging on for dear life and your glasses slipping down your nose, so it was only in the interests of your facial furniture's safety that I grabbed you and kissed you.

You kissed back through giggles, throwing your arms round my neck and letting me glide my hands down to cup your butt, which was a fucking miracle 'cause you never usually allow this kind of behaviour in front of anyone. God bless Elton John.

"Uh...guys," I heard someone say, and was fully prepared to ignore them completely, when you pulled back, still giggling and blushing like crazy.

"Sorry," you smiled, leaning into my chest and letting me fix your skewed fedora.

Flashing a sheepish grin at everyone in the room, I tried not to look too proud of myself for being half of the PDA couple. I didn't take my hand off your ass, though.

"So, Atlanta, huh?" Joe asked, poking you in the shoulder.

You couldn't even respond to that without giggling. "Yeah, this weekend!" you squeaked, squirming about in my arms. Then you stopped, looking at me anxiously. "Is it okay if I leave you?"

I smiled a bit. "No, actually. You gotta stay here, I won't let you go, you'll just have to tell Mr. John that the deal's off."

You batted me in the chest, but apparently the giggles weren't going away any time soon. "Love you," you beamed, nuzzling my neck.

"So," I said, suddenly realising that this was my golden opportunity, "you're gonna be away for the whole weekend?"

"Yeah, I guess I'll fly out on Friday...why?"

"No reason, I just wondered," I said airily.

"Hey, you could come too!" you exclaimed, blinking at me hopefully.

Uh oh. Don't give in to the puppy dog eyes, Pete. "Nah," I said, as nonchalantly as I could. "I'll leave you singers to it, I think."

I braced myself for questions, but you just hummed a noise of acceptance into my neck, and carried on grinning.

-

And you kept grinning for the next four days, singing Crocodile Rock in my ear so often that I started to think, do I really wanna marry this kid? Really? But then you'd do something cute like breathe or blink and I'd know the answer was only ever gonna be yes.

I couldn't get you out the door fast enough; I'd mentally planned out everything I needed to do while you were away, I'd been practicing my I totally don't want to marry you face, and I'd kept my laptop as far away from you as possible in the event of my search history giving me away. I want this to be a complete surprise, I want to see the look on your face when I ask the question. Let's just hope it's a smile.

You didn't half make it difficult for me, though.

For starters, you were pretty much hounding me the whole week with questions about the record, titles, album art, stuff we should've sorted out ages ago, whether I'd emailed that dude about that thing, whether we were completely happy with this tiny piece of production or that one vocal harmony. Then, when I tried and failed to show a genuine interest, being a bit preoccupied, you got annoyed and we'd argue and I wouldn't be able to tell you why and it kinda sucked. But then we'd just have amazing makeup sex, so it wasn't all bad.

And then you went and tried to get me to go with you, again. But this time, you made it way more difficult to refuse.

"I'm just saying, the hotel I booked is amazing, you don't know what you're missing," you'd shrugged as you threw a few items of clothing in your bag, sprawled on the bedroom floor.

"No, it's okay, I've got work to do," I insisted, not looking at you in case you pulled the eyes again.

"Are you serious? I'm sure the label will do fine without you for one weekend."

I hummed an unsure noise at you, fluffing and re-fluffing the pillows behind me.

"Come on," you cooed, leaning back against the bed and blinking at me, "Atlanta is real nice."

"Nope."

"We get a mini-bar and everything."

"Nope."

"We could fuck for three days straight."

"N - what?"

You laughed, and I shook my head as convincingly as I could while my brain yelled at me to calm the fuck down.

"Think about it, breakfast in bed, chocolates on our pillows, crazy animal sex in the middle of the day. It'll be great," you beamed, with that fucking angelic face of yours. I fucking hate him.

I screwed up my face, knowing that however much I wanted to, I'd have to say no. "Listen, Patrick...I can't, okay, I've got stuff to do."

"What stuff?" you pouted.

"Just stuff, I dunno, work stuff," I whined back at you, wishing I was a better liar.

"Ugh, I can't believe you'd rather do work than do me," you huffed, zipping your bag with as much attitude as you could possibly muster.

"I really wouldn't, Patrick," I sighed, wishing you knew how true that was.

"Fine," you said finally, getting up and flopping onto the bed beside me. "It'll be all the better when I get back, then."

I nodded, breathing out and giving you a grin that was mostly made of relief that you hadn't asked any more questions. "Yeah, it will."

You kissed me then, softly and sweetly, and for one fleeting second, the press of your peachy pink lips made me think fuck it, I'll just ask him now.

But I couldn't. No-one strays from the to-do list.

-

You had one last shot at getting me to come, when I was dropping you off at the airport, but you didn't mention any more crazy animal sex so I was able to stand my ground. I think you'd pretty much given up by that point, though, you were so damn excited, I hardly even got a proper kiss goodbye 'cause you were bouncing about so much.

I watched you disappear off into the crowd with a huge smile on my face, 'cause all I could think was I'm gonna marry that one.

-

However, it turned out that time wasn't prepared to stop in order to give me long enough to get everything done, so I practically fell in through the door and turned my mental list into a physical list. I'm very much a list man.

First off, family approval. Now, this wasn't specifically necessary since my entire family loves the socks off you, but, I dunno, it just felt like something I should do. Now I have a dad, I wanna make full use of him.

It still feels good to have "Dad" in my contacts. I hit the green button and jogged up and down on the spot, then sat down on the sofa in case I ended up breaking anything.

"Hello?"

"Hey, dad, it's me," I said, trying not to smile, 'cause I've been doing so much of that lately I think I might damage my face.

"Oh, hello, Pete, how are you?"

"I'm good, I'm good, you?"

"Mustn't grumble."

"Cool." Oh, these deep conversations we have. I decided I had to get to the point or I might explode. "Listen, uh, I got something to ask - well, tell - no, ask, I guess."

He made a humming noise, and I heard the sound of dishes clattering around. "Is it something I need to be sitting down for?"

"Well, I dunno, uh, it's not bad or anything. Or I guess it could be, if, if you say no, but, I mean, I think it's a good thing," I babbled, my tongue deciding to take the reins and run with them.

The sound of clinking china stopped. "Okay, I'm sitting down. Fire away."

I cleared my throat whilst my brain repeatedly slapped my tongue and wrestled back the reins. "Right. Alright. Okay. So. Uh, y'know Patrick?"

"...yes..."

"And, uh, y'know how we're living together and, like, we've been together quite a while now..." A year counts as a while, a year counts as a while.

"Yes...are you still happy?"

"Yeah, yes, we - we really are, and I, uh, think I'd quite like to ask him to marry me."

There was a short silence. Then he exploded.

"My goodness, son, that's fantastic, well done," I could hear the smile in his voice. "You hear that, sweetheart? Our boy's getting married," he called. "She'd be so proud of you, Pete," he said quietly.

I beamed into the pillow I was hugging. "So, you're okay with it?"

He laughed. "You needn't have asked, he's already one of the family. As long as he makes you happy, I'm happy."

"He does. He really does."

"Well alright then. When are you thinking of doing it?"

"Uh, I have a restaurant booked for a couple of weeks time. He might not say yes, so, like, don't get overexcited."

"He will. You two are so right for each other."

I grinned against the phone. "Okay. Thanks, dad, I know I didn't have to ask, but, I guess I wanted your, like, blessing and stuff."

"Well you have it. Now, go get a ring!" He laughed, like I'd forgotten. As if I'd forget, I have a list.

"Thanks. See you soon!"

"Congratulations, make sure you call me when you've done it."

"Okay, dad. Bye!"

I sat there, smiling at the phone, for a good ten minutes before I realised that the next thing on my list was exactly what dad had said: go buy a ring.

-

Ring shopping took ages. Like, I lost the whole rest of that day and half of Saturday just browsing, in this really posh mall with people in it who looked like they might report me for wearing skinny jeans.

It was hilarious to see people's faces when they politely asked the ring size of the lucky lady, only to have me reply actually, it's for my boyfriend.

Being the master of preparation that I am, I'd known your ring size for a while. I'd always loved playing with your hands, so when I started examining your ring finger in much greater detail, you didn't suspect a thing. One morning, when I'd woken up before you, I'd fetched a tape measure and curled it around your finger, so I knew exactly what would fit. Maybe that's creepy, but I just really fucking love your hands.

The problem was, the master of preparation hadn't quite realised how picky he was, and how many damn choices there are to make. Do I go with gold, white gold or platinum? Solitaire set or channel set? Asscher cut or Marquise cut?

Plus, I realised that you're a dude. And, I guess, usually, the girl wears the engagement ring, but there was a section of 'Male Engagement Rings' just in case the guy feels his masculinity is seriously threatened by wearing a fucking metal band on his finger. But they were all kinda chunky, some had black diamonds, or were really thick and stuff, I was half expecting one to have a dick etched into it just so it was entirely clear.

But I'm a gay dude, so I like pretty things, and you're pretty, and I wanted a pretty ring to go on your pretty finger. I went for gold, in the end, this gold band with another band twined round it which criss-crosses over itself at the top, 'cause I thought it would match your golden brown hair, and the ring of gold around your pupils. Then, I chose the most perfect diamond in the shop, Old European cut, colourless and flawless, obviously. Then, for the accent stones, I chose six little sapphires, three clustered on each side. They match your eyes.

The ring people made it early the next day, and I went to collect it. It's absolutely beautiful. You'll upstage it by miles, though.

-

So, with Saturday spent on rings, a very enthusiastic phone call from you about how amazing it went, and half of Sunday already gone, I'd left the two most important things 'till last. And also the two most scary things.

I pretty much knew my dad was gonna be fine with it. I'm glad I've got his blessing, but there were two other people I needed to ask. Your parents. Holy mother of crap.

Your family's quite traditional, so I wanted to do this the old-fashioned way. I needed your dad's permission, otherwise we'd have to, like, elope or something. Which I was fine with, but with the band and stuff, eloping would be quite difficult.

Anyway, I put on my best suit, combed my hair, checked I wasn't smelly, then jumped in my car, the little velvet box in my pocket. I figured, if I already had a ring, then maybe they'd see that this wasn't just some spur-of-the-moment thing, and I was absolutely serious about it.

I hadn't called to warn them, so I was kinda worried that they might not be in, or they might be busy, or they might just think it's plain rude of me to turn up uninvited. Basically, I was completely petrified of them.

My hand was shaking as I knocked on the door. There were a few cars outside, it looked like someone was in, so there was no chance of me being able to run away.

The door started to open. Please be his mum, please be his mum.

"Oh, hello, Pete," a deep voice said.

My heart sank. "Hey, Mr Stump," I said, wringing my hands together. "Listen, uh, I'm sorry I turned up like this, but, uh, do you have time to talk?"

"Yes, of course, come in, Patricia's mother and Grace are here at the moment, but you know both of them already."

I nodded and followed him inside, even though I had no idea who Grace was, and my insides were screaming oh god, it's the horrible grandma.

Okay, so, she wasn't really horrible anymore, she'd been fine at Christmas, she hadn't made any comments about our relationship since that one time. But at the moment, that was all I could think about, the way she'd backhanded you when you told her you were with me. Between her and your dad, I was mincemeat.

Still, I smiled when your dad made small talk, sat down on the chair opposite him like this conversation wouldn't make or break my entire life. Your grandma was nowhere to be seen, so maybe I'd only have to deal with your dad. I tried my utmost to relax. Just be nice. He doesn't hate me anymore, he came to Christmas, he was perfectly fine with me then, it'll be fine.

"So, Pete, what is it that brings you here?" He asked, leaning back in his chair. I suddenly felt like I was at a job interview.

"Uh, well, I actually, uh, I have a question to ask you, sir," I said, trying to stop my voice jumping about so much.

He raised an eyebrow, "yes?"

I cleared my throat a little. "Uh, well, me and Patrick have-"

"Patrick and I," he interrupted.

"Uh...what?"

"Patrick and I, not me and Patrick," he clarified.

I gaped at him. "Oh, okay, yes, sorry, right," I stammered, completely thrown off by the sudden emergence of the Grammar Police.

He waved a hand. "Go ahead."

"Yes, okay, well, uh, me and - Patrick and I, we've been together for a while now, and, uh, I think I'd like to, uh, well - can - can I marry your son, sir?"

I breathed out, bracing myself for whatever was gonna come next.

"Hmm," he said narrowing his eyes at me. "You'd like to propose. Why is that, exactly?" He didn't ask it like a genuine question, I knew he was testing me. Come on, say the right words, for once.

"Well," I started, looking at him steadily, "I love him. I just, like, really really love him."

He raised an eyebrow. "And?"

I had no idea what more he wanted from me. "And, uh, I wanna spend the rest of my life with him?"

He let out a rush of air and stared straight at me. "And, can you provide for him? Do you respect him, will you remain faithful to him, do you love him for his body or for his mind? Is this some spur of the moment whim or have you really, genuinely thought about this?"

I blinked at him. "Uh, well, yes, and uh...no, I guess I don't, uh..." I fumbled, not knowing which question to answer first.

"A year is a short time, son. Do you think it's been long enough for you to really know?"

"Yes," I asserted, pursing my lips. "I've known him for so long, and I've loved him for so long,and now I'm certain." Points for Pete, I think.

"Okay. Now, given your actions towards him in the past...will you hurt him?"

"I'll never cause him physical pain, if that's what you mean. I'll never lay a vicious hand on him. I'll never intentionally hurt him, but I can't guarantee we won't sometimes hurt each other, accidentally. We'll always make amends, though." I resisted the urge to cheer at how mature that was.

He nodded, and he even looked kinda impressed. "Alright, young man. Can you satisfy him, then? Emotionally, intellectually, and...well, sexually?"

I choked on thin air. "Uh, well, we're, uh pretty much on the same page, like, emotionally, and uh, intellectually, I guess..." What does that even mean? How do I intellectually satisfy him? "And the sex is great," I blurted. Why. Why did I say that? I felt my face heat up. "Well, I mean, it's, like, well-"

"Alright," he interrupted, looking rather sorry he'd asked the question. "And will you be faithful?"

"Yes," I said, shrugging because obviously I'm gonna be faithful to you. To be honest, it never even crossed my mind that either of us would ever sleep with anyone else because, like, what's the point? Who wants forgettable fucking and no cuddling after?

"Okay," he said, folding his arms like he was a bouncer. "And will you-"

"Oh for goodness' sake," a voice called from the doorway, "just let him marry the boy."

It was your grandma. She was shuffling through the doorway, shaking her head at your dad.

"You listen to me, Pete," she said, pointing a finger at me, "don't pay any attention to him." She waved a hand in your dad's direction. "I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather have married to my grandson. You boys will be very happy. Grace, have you got my tea?"

A girl appeared in the doorway behind her, holding a cup and saucer, yet still managing to text at the same time. "Yup, I'm right here."

The both wandered past us, heading for the kitchen, then the girl, Grace, glanced at me and smiled.

"I knew you'd marry him," she grinned, holding the cup and saucer up to me as a sort of cheers gesture, then followed your grandma away from us.

It took me a second of thinking to realise where I recognised her from; perhaps because the last time I'd seen her, she'd been in an elf outfit. Oh my god. Wow. I felt this huge rush of nostalgia, thinking about that little kid who'd scared the shit out of me during our first Christmas together. She's all grown up now. Fuck, I'm old.

I stared after her for a while, wondering if I should say something or follow her, then realised your dad was still sitting across from me. I turned to face him, my fingers knotting themselves together.

"Hmm," he hummed, narrowing his eyes again.

I shifted in my seat. Am I supposed to say something to that, or...?

He sighed heavily. "Alright, Pete. You may marry my son."

I felt this rush of relief through me, and my brain finally released my mouth from its death grip. 'Thank you, sir, thank you so much, I'm gonna make him so happy, I swear you won't regret this, I-"

"Pete?" A voice called from the hall. "Darling, is Pete here?"

It was your mum. As soon as she rounded the corner, her face lit up, and she rushed at me.

I stood up just in time to hug her. "Pete, sweetie, it's so good to see you! Don't you look smart! Have you been here long? Would you like a drink of something?"

"Uh, no, and, uh, no thanks," I said, unable to keep the grin from my face. You dad wore a slight smile, too.

"What's going on?" your mum asked, laughing a little and flicking her gaze between the two of us.

Your dad stood up and raised his eyebrows at me. I took that as the a-okay.

"Uh," I started, feeling heat in my cheeks. "I'd like to ask Patrick to marry me."

Your mum let out what can only be described as a sob, and threw her arms around my neck. "That's wonderful, sweetheart, oh goodness gracious that's wonderful, isn't that wonderful, darling!" she shrieked, finally letting me go and looking at your dad, nearly glowing with happiness.

"Yes," you dad said softly, and he looked like he meant it.

"I, uh, I have a ring," I said suddenly, digging around in my pocket. I was so proud of this thing, I had to show it to someone.

Your mum was positively beaming as she took the box from me, and as she opened it, she looked like she might pass out. "Oh, darling, isn't it beautiful! He'll love it, Pete, he'll absolutely love it!"

I smiled harder. I really hope he does.

She hugged me again when she handed me back the ring.

"You two are going to be so happy," she said to me quietly, as they were saying goodbye.

And as I drove away from their house, waving from the window, I knew she was absolutely right.

-

With them done, there was only one person left. Debatably the most important person.

I was gonna save this trip 'til Monday, before your flight got in, but I was so fired up from overcoming your dad that I decided I'd do it on the way home.

Joe'd been staying at Andy's for a while whilst we played some shows in Chicago, so this was almost like asking your parents all over again. Except, I was more likely to end up with a black eye.

Not that I was extremely worried. I mean, they hadn't complained too much about our relationship, apart from the the odd sick noise if they walked in on us making out or something, or that one time I had you nearly naked in the dressing room when Andy came looking for batteries. I don't think I've ever seen you quite so embarrassed. But apart from that, they seemed pretty okay with it. I guess after twelve years of me chasing after you, they were kinda relieved it'd all turned out okay.

But I still needed their blessings, especially Joe's. He'd spent so much time keeping me away from you, and for fucking good reason, he'd put so much effort into protecting you, he was more like your dad than your actual dad. We'd caused him a lot of stress over the years, it was only fair that I asked them before I made you mine forever.

-

"Hey, P - why the fuck are you dressed like that?" Andy exclaimed the minute he saw me standing outside his door.

"I had some important stuff to do today. Is Joe in?"

"Is nobody coming here to see me anymore?" he huffed, but yanked me through the door anyway.

"I need to talk to you, too," I protested, letting him drag me through to the lounge where Joe was slumped in front of the TV with a beer and a bowl of chips.

"Pete?" he said as we walked in, "what's happened? Lonely without your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, either of you fancy a fuck?"

Joe made a face, putting the chip he was holding back in the bowl and muting the TV. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Look, it doesn't matter," I huffed, "I just need to talk to you."

"Oh, okay, uh oh, man in a suit wants to talk to us. If this is about the record, I might strangle someone."

"No, it's not about the record. Just, like, sit down or something, I dunno."

They exchanged a look, and Andy went and flopped down next to Joe. They both raised their eyebrows at me.

Suddenly feeling very exposed, I swallowed hard, and clasped my hands together in front of me like this was some kind of sales pitch. I prepared my usual intro. "Uh, so, Patrick and I have been together for a while now, and, uh, we live together and stuff, and, uh...I wanna marry him."

I smiled slightly, probably expecting some kind of applause. But they just blinked at me.

"So, are you gonna say anything?"

Joe frowned, then looked up at me. "Uh, yeah, man, that's great, I mean, yeah, well done, dude."

"Okay...so, like, you're cool with that?"

Andy cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, dude, congratulations. Uh...so when are you thinking of proposing?"

"Next week, I think. I booked this nice-"

"Next week? O - okay, cool," Joe said. He sounded worried.

"What's the matter? Is there a problem?"

"No, no," he stammered. He kept glancing at Andy. "No, of course not, that's - that's okay."

"Right. Okay," I said, frowning at the suddenly awkward atmosphere. "So, you don't have a problem with this?"

Joe laughed a little bit. "No, why would I have a problem, I don't have a problem, this is totally fine. So - so, have you already got a ring?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it right here, you wanna see?" I reached into my pocket, but they weren't looking at me.

"Okay, cool, you got a ring, that's great. Okay."

I squinted at them, trying to read what they were thinking. "Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

Joe put on his best smile, and stood up. "Nothing's wrong, it's so great you wanna propose, I'm proud of you, man."

"Okay, so you're both okay with me marrying Patrick?" I asked as he slowly guided me towards the door.

"Yeah, why wouldn't we be?" Andy laughed from behind Joe.

"Well, I dunno, it's just, y'know, given what's happened in the past, you might have a problem, or be worried, or something?" Now it sounded like I was trying to find reasons not to propose.

"Nah, man, we're not worried, not worried at all. Now go plan when you're gonna do it."

"Well, I've already booked a restaurant, actually, I -"

"Thanks for dropping by, Pete!" Joe nearly yelled as he shoved me out the door. The last thing I saw was Andy with a phone to his ear.

So that was weird.

-

I freaked out a little bit in the car on the way home, wondering what all that was about. But I got their approval, I guess, which was what I came for, so that was it. Everything was done, all I had to do now was hide or destroy all evidence. I was just hoping to god they weren't gonna tell you.

You seemed none the wiser, though, when I picked you up from the airport the next day. You pretty much ran at me when you saw me, it was like in those romantic movies, and you kissed me like you'd been away for months rather than days.

"So how'd it go?" I'd asked as I took one of your bags off you and linked our hands together.

"It was so good, oh my god the song is perfect, it's so much better now, and he was so great he knew all the parts and he was so nice and he said he loved the song and he loved the name we chose and it was only supposed to be two hours but we talked for ages after and it was just so amazing!" you chirped, cuddling my arm and beaming at me.

"Yeah?" I laughed, "should I feel threatened by this Elton fellow?"

"Yep, how d'you think we got the deal in the first place? I only had to give him a couple blowjobs," you shrugged, smiling angelically.

"Oh, okay. I'd have gone for your ass, myself, but each to their own."

You rolled your eyes. "You really know how to romance me, don't you," you sighed dramatically. "So what've you been up to?"

"Oh, just working," I said, not looking at you in case I subconsciously fell onto one knee.

"Can we get pizza on the way back?" you asked hopefully, and I nodded at you enthusiastically, mostly because you hadn't asked any more questions.

As we walked out of the building, I clasped your hand in my own. I wonder what it'll feel like to do that once I've put that ring on your finger.

-

It's Wednesday now. The restaurant's booked for next Tuesday. That's six sleeps 'til I ask you. I want this so bad, Patrick, I want you so bad. Sometimes, even I'm surprised how much I love you. Fuck, I love you.

And I'm so excited.

Love and cuddles and kisses,
Pete xxx