Work Text:
“Hey…Wanna get married?”
Philippe snaps to attention, looking at his boss—his best friend, his business partner, his boyfriend, the person he loves and trusts most—to see if he misheard, or if perhaps Corbeau is joking. He does have an odd, teasing sense of humor—but he wouldn’t make a joke of that, and his sharp eyes hold only earnest curiosity and a touch of nervousness no one else would be able to detect.
“Yes,” Philippe replies, no room for doubt. Corbeau’s eyes crinkle, and then he laughs the bright laugh no one else gets to hear.
“Good! Stand by for a proper proposal,” Corbeau hums, looking pleased with himself.
“That wasn’t it?” Philippe asks. Corbeau feigns offense, hand on his chest.
“Do you really think I would give you anything but the best? I just had to make sure you were really on board. Public humiliation from a botched proposal is so gauche.” His eyes soften and his voice goes a little quiet. “I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t want to. There’s nothing wrong with what we have, with us just as we are.”
Philippe takes Corbeau’s hand in his, all steadiness and warmth.
“I would love to marry you, Corbeau. I’d be alright with nothing changing, too, but I want to be your husband. I want to call you my husband. I want our paperwork and anniversary cards and headstones to have the same name. I want to wear matching rings and let everyone know what they mean.”
He wants a lot more wonderful wedding-slash-marriage things, too, but they’re rapidly leaving his mind in the wake of Corbeau’s beautiful, lovesick smile. Then Corbeau looks mortified.
“Arceus, what are we going to do about our names?”
Philippe laughs soft before kissing his hand.
“We’ll figure that, and everything else, out together. Ideally before your proper proposal sends the whole Syndicate into a flurry.”
Corbeau relaxes, and resumes contentedly leaning on Philippe.
“Yeah, okay. Love you, Sunshine.”
“I love you, too, Beau.”