Work Text:
GARRETT POV
You know what? Fuck it.
I don't know if other guys have spent time thinking about how they'd propose to a girl, but I never did.
Granted, I also "didn't do girlfriends" until the woman I'm about to propose to showed up in my life 5 years ago.
And now we're standing in our kitchen, me in old Briar U sweats and Hannah in her leggings and a T-shirt that I'm 99% sure once belonged to me. She's asking me what I want for dinner or if we should just order take-out (again), and it's not a grand gesture, and there isn't a photographer, and her nails aren't done, and it's not really a surprise because we've been soft-engaged for weeks now, but, yeah, fuck it.
I sink down onto one knee, pretty smoothly considering I'm more nervous about this than I've ever been about any hockey game in my life--Frozen Four, with scouts in the crowd, even last year's playoff run with the Bruins. Which is insane, because she's going to say yes. Hell, she suggested we get married in the first place. So maybe I'm not nervous? Maybe I'm more excited for this than I've ever been for any hockey game in my life. My therapist says your body sometimes has a hard time telling the difference between fear and excitement; it just produces adrenaline, and you have to figure it out.
Anyway, not the point.
I sink down to one knee, more excited about this than I've ever been for any hockey game in my whole damn life.
"Wellsy," I start, and she turns around. The look on her face tells me maybe she wasn't expecting a marriage proposal at 7 PM on a Tuesday evening.
Maybe I did get the surprise part, then.
"Hannah," I start again, and, shit, if I make eye contact too long, I won't make it through the speech.
"We said no speeches," she says. She's trying for a joke, but it doesn't quite land.
"We said, 'Who needs speeches?'" I tease. "And I know we don't need speeches, but, Han, you deserve them. You deserve speeches far greater and more articulate than the one I'm about to give. But I hope you'll entertain it anyway."
A nearly imperceptible nod from behind her teary green eyes is my cue to continue.
"You are my favorite person - but don't tell the boys."
She giggles at that.
"You're the person I want to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night, no matter how the last game went or how long it's been since you washed your hair. We've shared so many big things together, from showcases and graduation to the draft and team banquets to your first--of so, so many--hit songs. But anyone can be around for the big moments. You're the person I want to share all the mundane bits of life with, the things that don't make it into the People feature. I want to pick out carpet with you. I want to bicker about where we spend Christmas and how many stuffed animals is too many stuffed animals to buy our goddaughter."
Wellsy is full-on crying now, but she still manages a chirp. God, I love this woman.
"Sabrina will kill us if we--hic--get Jamie anymore--hic--stuffed animals."
"Nah, Tuck won't let her," I grin. "But, baby, I want to have that argument for the rest of our lives. I even want the bad days with you. The days where I shut down and don't communicate and the days when the nightmares come back; the days when I'm hurt or you're sick or our perfect little angel baby will not go the fuck to sleep and we're at our wits end. There's nothing in this life that I don't want to experience with you, Hannah Julie Wells, because I know it's corny, but if they made a highlight reel of my life, loving you would be my greatest play. So it would be the honor of my life if you would marry me. If you're into it?"
I got her a ring, like she asked, and I've been carrying it everywhere with me since I picked it up from the jeweler, because I'm too scared to have it anywhere other than on my person. So I pull the box out of my sweatshirt pocket now and offer it to the love of my life.
It's not as big as Allie's, because goddamn, Dean broke out the trust fund money for that rock, but all the girls approved of it when I sent them pictures last week.
Based on the look on Hannah's face right now, I'm pretty sure she loves it, too.
Or maybe she just loves me.
"Yeah, I could be into that," she nods.
"The good, the bad, and the ugly?"
"Baby, neither of us are ugly."
And then it's shaky hands and watery laughs and wet kisses, and Hannah's on my knee, and then we're both tipping over onto the floor, and--
"Oh shit! The baby!" I cry.
"We're fine, G," Hannah says. "My fiancé's strong, broad shoulders cushioned us."
She has a point. I don't think any part of her body is touching the floor. She's pressed against me from chest to waist. I absentmindedly stroke her cheek where it's resting on my chest.
"Say it again," I murmur.
"Say what?" Hannah teases. She brings my hand to her mouth and kisses it. "'Us?'" She kisses my hand again. "Or 'strong, broad shoulders'?" Another kiss. "Or 'fiancé'?"
"That one," I practically purr. "Call me your fiancé."
When she looks up at me through her long lashes, I know she knows I'm more than a little turned on. I'm not even embarrassed. The doc said there's nothing wrong with sex during pregnancy as long as it's nothing too, ah, vigorous.
"You're my fiancé," she whispers, and I fucking shiver. "I'm your fiancée. We're getting married, G. You're going to be my husband."
I groan. I can't help it. I've locked down the smartest, kindest, hottest, and most talented woman on the planet. And every part of me from my brain to my dick knows it.
She laughs. "What? You suddenly have a domesticity kink or something? You want to come home and find me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, fixing your dinner?" She reaches a hand down between our bodies and palms at me through my sweatpants.
"Oh my God, you're hard! You really like that idea? Garrett, that's so medieval!"
I cover her hand with mine. Too much friction and I'll cum in my pants like a teenager having a quickie in the backseat of his parent's minivan 15 minutes before curfew.
"I like the idea of you. Pregnant," I hum.
"So it's a pregnancy kink?" The look on her face is a cross between hopeful, concerned, and amused.
"It's a you kink, Wellsy. It's always been you. However you'd have me. Because I am so ridiculously in love with you."
She's smiling at me again, and I would buy a new ring and propose to her every day for the rest of my life if it would keep that look on her face.
"I love you, too, G."