Chapter Text
It’s months - years and change - after the end of the world, and every day, there’s still reasons for Galo’s anticipation towards tomorrow to grow a little brighter.
---
In the end, finding the ring is easier than anticipated.
As Galo threw himself headfirst into planning and research, his excitement was soon joined by its good neighbour Oh God, this is a little overwhelming. The culture of proposals was as lucrative as it was varied, ranging from cloyingly sweet to...worryingly psychopathic. And as for the rings themselves...the sheer breadth of selection - both online and offline - made Galo’s head spin.
(His sympathy for last movie night’s Floppy Haired Protagonist only grew with every passing day.)
It didn’t help that he wasn’t entirely sure what sort of ring would fit Lio the best. Ideally, Galo wanted something that was both pretty and cool - something classy but also sparkly. It would need to be sturdy enough not to hinder the blonde at work - but at the same time, special and one-of-a-kind and pulling out all the stops. Then there was also the matter of colour. Lio’s wardrobe gravitated towards monochromes, but the hues Galo associated with him were anything but - bright teals, burning pinks, stunning violets.
Lastly, Galo wanted to choose something that paid tribute to Burnish traditions, in some shape or form. He knew their rituals weren’t set in stone, varying with each couple and circumstance - but there was one couple and one set of rings in particular that had prompted the idea.
“Pretty rich, coming from you.” Lio snorts. On the opposite end of the table, Meis raises his hands in defeat.
“I know, I know,” he says, tone one of warm, weary familiarity. “I married a guy from Florida, I have no place to talk.”
Galo blinks at them, a fry tumbling free from his mouth. “Wait - you guys are married?!”
Casually as you please, Meis steals his last onion ring. “Not officially.”
“Excuse you,” Gueira cuts in, eyes wide and terribly offended. “It’s plenty official! It was officiated to hell and back! There was cake!”
“Not officially on paper.” Meis corrects, rolling his eyes. His fond smile ruins the effect somewhat. “But yeah. Our anniversary was just the other month.”
His fingers fiddle with the neck of his shirt, pulling a thin chain into view. A slim, dark band dangles off it, flickering with familiar holographic shades in the afternoon light. As Galo leans in to take a closer look, Gueira peels his left sleeve back, revealing a matching band woven into one of the bracelets looped around his wrist.
“Did you guys...make these?” There’s no gemstone embedded in the rings - only a neat pattern of tiny triangles carved around a date. The surface is smooth to the touch, warm with body heat.
“Yep!” Gueira preens. Between the greasy plates and empty mugs, his fingers slip into Meis’ waiting hand. “Volcanic rock and a whole lotta flames.”
“Whoaaah.” Galo murmurs, voice hushed with awe. “So cool!”
He watches Meis hurriedly tuck the ring out of sight - swiftly scanning their surroundings for danger - and doesn’t ask why they’re not wearing them on their fingers.
Despite the staggering selection of jewellery, coupled together with his own stubborn determination to only accept perfection in every sense, it only takes Galo two trips downtown to stumble upon it.
A slim silver band with a single sparkling gem, framed by delicate diamond-shaped carvings and a pair of tiny triangles. When the sales assistant holds it against the light, a rainbow scatters across the counter.
It’s perfect.
“I’ll take it!”
“Good choice, sir!” she chirps from behind the counter, excitement bleeding through her politeness. “That one’s really one of a kind! Now - do you have the ring size?”
Clutching the notebook hiding the measurements taken meticulously from Lio’s glove just days ago, Galo beams at her.
---
Working out the finer details proves to be a little more difficult.
Galo loved lists - top 20 lists, countdowns, compilations, personality quizzes. (He might spend a little too much of his spare time on Buzzfeed.) But the more he reads - the deeper he digs himself - the more conflicted he feels about everything.
A very popular consensus seemed to be that the proposal’s location was very important - the more personal and significant, the better. The place of a first date, a first confession was ideal. But Galo had met Lio on the roof of the former Foresight Pharmaceuticals - currently locked down and under reconstruction. However significant, trespassing into a dusty pile of rubble (bearing the Foresight logo) didn’t exactly scream romance.
There was also the once-frozen lake in the woods - now a dry crater, housing the remains of Dr. Deus’ lab. It was a spot they still frequented occasionally - mostly at the end of long weeks, bone-tired and in desperate need of some uninterrupted, therapeutic screaming. (Galo liked yelling into the deep chasm in the earth, whilst Lio preferred the trees of the dense forest.)
Again, not the most romantic of set-ups.
Further significant locations included the former crash site of the Parnassus, the cave, the rooftop of Burning Rescue and the ER ward of their local hospital. Galo dismissed all of them almost immediately.
(Now that he thinks about it, an alarming number of their significant places are covered with rubble and demolished remains.
This should probably concern him more than it does.)
Then there was the method itself.
“They’re all just so weird, is the thing - “ he repeats, waving his hand in an attempt to aptly encompass how fucking bizarre it was to throw extremely expensive diamond rings into unsuspecting people’s champagnes and cakes. “Like, so many hygiene and choking hazards. Not to mention what biting down on a diamond would do to someone’s teeth!”
Steady hands nudge a mug between his fingers. “Uhuh.”
“And why do so many proposal tips involve candles in the bedroom?!” Galo continues, voice just a touch hysterical. “Candles leading into the bedroom, candles around the bed, candles surrounded by flower petals...have they not seen the statistics? Have they not heard of LED tealights?!”
“Galo. Breathe.”
Galo takes a deep breath. Lemon-scented steam billows against his chin, sharp and soothing.
“None of that stuff is compulsory, you know.” Aina reminds him. She had shown up at his doorstep between his twelfth and thirteenth text and all but dragged him to the nearest cafe. “And I’ve seen how Lio eats cake. He’d definitely crack a molar.”
Galo takes an obligatory sip of his tea. Somehow, he manages not to burn his tongue. “Yeah but...don’t you think that would make it more meaningful? Setting something on fire for him?”
It was the perfect final detail, in theory - simple, but meaningful and dramatic. An acknowledgement of their shared past, of a very significant moment in their relationship. But the thought just made his skin itch uncomfortably, worries and questions popping up like mushrooms after the rain. The use of naked flame would affect (and limit) the potential locations dramatically - not to mention that he didn’t even know what would be the best thing to set fire to -
(For the first time, Galo finds himself immensely grateful for Lio’s unpredictable schedule, keeping him late at the office. Had the blonde been home, bearing witness to his boyfriend’s steady spiral into indecisive fretting, it would have been impossible to keep his plans a secret.)
“You’ve already set stuff on fire for him, though.” Aina says. Her tone is split halfway between exasperated and amused. “There was a heart-shaped cloud and a galaxy-wide inferno and everything, remember?”
“...Shit!” Galo’s head snaps towards her, stricken. “...That would have been the perfect time!”
Aina snorts into her tea gracelessly. “Really? With both of you battered and half-naked? Right in front of Kray?”
They both pause to consider it. They manage a good three seconds before bursting into tired giggles.
“I know it’s hard not to, but try not to stress too much over this, Galo.” Aina murmurs once they’ve both caught their breath. She idly empties yet another packet of sugar into her mug. “You don’t have to do something drastic for Lio to appreciate the gesture. I’m sure you just asking him will make him really happy.”
Galo takes another sip. He could feel the hours finally catching up with him, exhaustion settling deep into his bones. “...You think so?”
“Oh please.” Aina snorts. “That man would say yes if you proposed with a ring pop.”
“...they do sell those really big ones that light up in the supermarket...”
“Please don’t propose with a ring pop, Galo.”
-
He returns home a few hours later to find Lio hunched over the kitchen table, eyes fixed on his tablet as he drinks tomato soup straight from the can.
“Lio!” Galo cries out, aghast. “Use a spoon!”
---
(20:33) From: Aina
hope you got home safe! remember, you’re banned from pinterest for 24hrs. get some sleep!!
(20:35) From: Aina
oh and another thing
(20:35) From: Aina
promise me that it will not, at any point, involve hot air balloons
(20:40) To: Aina
THERE R HOT AIR BALLOONS 4 RENT IN PROMEPOLIS?!!!!
(20:41) From: Aina
PROMISE ME GALO
---
His first attempt involves ten pages of Yelp reviews, a hushed phone call on the Burning Rescue roof and a hurried trip to the dry cleaner’s.
The restaurant he’d chosen was fancy enough to warrant a tie and shiny shoes, but not fancy enough to make them feel uncomfortable. It boasted two floors and private balcony seating, with an incredible view framed by potted lemon trees.
Couldn’t go wrong with the classics, right?
The first available date is in two weeks’ time. Still shaken by the horror stories he’d read about ten-month-long-waiting-lists, Galo quickly books it.
A week before the date, they get a call just an hour shy of midnight - to a very familiar address. Galo scrambles out of the truck just in time to see the balcony section crumble in the flames.
Well. Shit.
By the time they put the fire out, Galo’s shoulders are sore and he’s too exhausted to feel disappointed.
“I’m really sorry about your potted lemon trees.” he tells the grim-faced owner sincerely, offering him a lukewarm bottle of water. “They were really cool.”
---
His second attempt involves half a dozen cooking blogs, a sneaky trip to the big supermarket and a stern staring battle with the weather page.
This time, Galo wanted to try something a little cozier, closer to home. Settle in with a nice meal (steak and potatoes, all prepped in his cute apron), then suggest a late night stroll in the nearby park. The stars weren’t as piercingly clear in the city as they would have been in the desert - but they were still pretty enough to hopefully inspire the right kind of mood.
On Thursday, Galo bounds out of the station on the dot, spirits high. The beginnings of giddy anticipation follow him through the store and up the stairs of their apartment, putting an extra bounce in his step. However, the scene that greets him beyond the front door is not one he expects.
“Oh, hey guys!” he calls out, nudging the two extra pairs of shoes off the doormat. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
The big lumps on the sofa make a vague noise in reply. A hand emerges from under the covers, giving him a limp wave.
That…was a little worrying.
Lio is already in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and hands sticky with apple juice. His frown splinters into a smile when he spots Galo.
“I was about to text you.” he says, tossing the knife into the sink. Galo leans down to catch his welcome-home kiss just in time. “They got here a little while ago, looking like...that. Real shit day at work, apparently.” Violet eyes dip down to the bag of groceries in the firefighter’s grip, widening with realisation. “Ah - “
“I’ll get the nachos and the dip.” Galo cuts in, brain already racing with dinner possibilities. He rocks forwards, planting a kiss on the tip of Lio’s nose. “Do we break out the ice cream now, or after dinner?”
-
Two servings of ice cream and three rounds of Street Fighter later, Meis and Gueira emerge from the depths of their blanket cocoon. Slowly, through the chatter and familiar teasing, the tension dissipates in the room. When conversation turns towards the trio’s favoured reality show and the undeserving winner of the last season, Galo makes a move to get dinner started.
It was always fun getting to see Lio in the company of his former generals, he muses as he scatters the vegetables across the cutting board. There was just something about catching glimpses of his boyfriend around those he considered his brothers - those who have accompanied him through thick and thin, who had Lio’s absolute trust and returned it tenfold. The three of them fit together like well-worn cogs, oiled by a sense of camaraderie Galo couldn’t wholly understand, but was very grateful for.
Plus Meis and Gueira were just fun - two very different flavours of chaos and creativity, burning with the same desire to carve a space out for the former Burnish in the new world.
A quiet rap against the door drags him back to reality, followed by swift steps and a swathe of long black hair.
“I’ve been sent to replenish the Doritos.”
Galo glances at the clock. The oversized party bag had lasted twenty minutes. Considering the crisis situation, pretty impressive. “There’s more in the cupboard to your right, help yourself!”
With a grunt, Meis drops into a crouch. Galo makes a mental note to oil the cupboard hinges later.
“...why do you guys have so many cans of tuna?”
“Oh, we had coupons.”
“Ah.” Meis dips out of sight again. “...What are you going to make out of them?”
“I have no idea!”
There’s a soft snort. The cupboard door squeaks shut, plastic crinkling as the Doritos are set down on the counter.
“...sorry for barging in like this.” Meis says suddenly. He plucks at the bag, voice scratchy with discomfort.
“Don’t be stupid, you guys are always welcome here!” Galo is quick to insist. He flicks a cherry tomato at him, which Meis promptly snatches from mid-air. “Besides, Lio did say you guys spent the whole week with the stingy budget guy.” Galo had met him once during a gala. It had been a very aggravating experience. “I dunno how you get through whole meetings with him.”
“I fantasize about running him over with a bulldozer.” comes the deadpan reply. With a vicious yank, he tears the Doritos open.
Knife poised against the cutting board, Galo holds his tongue. Soon enough, Meis’ shoulders go slack with a sigh.
“...it’s just - this is the exact reason why I joined Mad Burnish, y’know?” Idly, he plucks a hair tie loose from his wrist, twisting the beginnings of a sloppy braid into his hair. “I was tired of all the bullshit and wanted to do something. And now - now we can’t do anything but just - stand there and fucking take it.”
He sounds weary, exhausted. Galo’s eyes follow him as he paces around the kitchen, eventually settling against the now-cluttered counter.
“Some days, I miss the hell out of it.” The admission is quiet, courted by a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “I miss the thrill of a raid, the adrenaline. I miss the fear in the bigots’ eyes, how quick they’d be to beg for their lives. I even kind of miss being on the run.” Long fingers grasp at his bicep, curling over the ink of his tattoo. “Well - our bikes. The fires at night. Camping under the stars.”
“I get that.” Galo says. He wouldn’t change the present for anything in the world, but saying he doesn’t sometimes miss facing down a Burnish blaze would be a lie.
“Those days, it felt like we could do anything, y’know? Free everyone. Fight back. Build a city for the Burnish, where we could all be free.” Meis’ lips curl wistfully. His nails dig into his arm. “And now, we’re back to politely begging people in monkey suits and wounded egos for a shot at having a future.”
(“What was the point of it all?” Lio had muttered into his hands just a month ago, eyes glassy and lips trembling. Galo had found him slumped over the kitchen desk, mug full and ice cold at his elbow.“I spent a whole day arguing with people on why we should be treated like human beings. Again. What the hell was the point of fighting the end of the world?”)
“...I won’t say I understand what it’s like, cuz I don’t think I could.” Galo says when the silence turns uncomfortable. Setting his knife down, he meets Meis’ guarded eyes head on. “But I can understand how hard it is to keep your cool when people don’t treat you with respect.”
Meis’ lips twist. “...I do miss the easy access to arson sometimes.”
“I know.” Meis made no secret of that, much to the firefighting squad’s distress and Gueira’s amusement. “And I know that things are stupid slow right now, but you gotta remember - there’s Burnish children now who are gonna grow up going to school and will have roofs over their heads. And they’ll get to be whatever they want to be when they’re older! And there’s lots of Burnish who will get to grow old now. You guys did that - and no one can take that away from them!”
(“That’s a foolishly bold statement to make, Galo.” Lio had replied to that same declaration a month ago, smile small and sad. “You know we can’t promise that.”
“What I know,” Galo had shot back, brows tight,“is that you and your team poured blood, sweat and tears into pushing all those changes to the new laws, to make sure that something like Kray and the Parnassus couldn’t happen again! What I know is that those papers have all been signed and that you guys made it happen!”
Lio’s hands had shook then, safe in the tight grip of Galo’s palms. “...what if that’s not enough?”
“It will be. And if something happens - we’ll just keep punching it until it’s all right.”)
“And you know - on shitty days, you should swing by the station. We’ve got those training dummies in the basement. They can take a few punches.” Galo says, throwing his fist out in demonstration. “We could tape pictures on the heads, if you want. Or - have you tried cooking? That involves stabbing things. Lio likes making stew and mashed food after shitty days - he says it’s really helpful!”
Meis cocks his head, long fringe falling over one eye. Slowly, he turns back to his abandoned bowl - but not before Galo can catch his smile.
“I’ve decided.” His tone is light, like they’ve just been discussing the merits of one mayonnaise brand over the other. “You can have it.”
“Oh, thanks!” Galo beams. “...Have what?”
“My blessing.” Meis replies, as if that was obvious. “To make an honest man out of the Boss.”
A strangled noise echoes across the kitchen. It takes Galo a moment to realise it came from his own throat.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Meis continues, eyes gleaming. “All that staring at our rings lately.”
“A-ah - “
“And honestly, it’s about time - how many years has it been?”
“That’s - !”
“Babe!” Gueira’s voice cuts through Galo’s stammering, piercing and unignorable. “Where did you go?! We’re starving! ”
-
“Alright…”
Gritting his teeth, Galo tightens his grip. The clock ticks above them, thunderous in the strained silence. From the corner of his eye, he sees Gueira’s teeth sink into his lower lip.
The block slips free. The tower trembles for just a moment.
“What the fuck.” Meis breathes.
“That’s impossible! ”
“Hah!” Leaning back, Galo pumps his fist with gusto. “Your move!”
“Guys,” Lio says from the couch, “the ice cream is going to melt.”
Meis scowls at the Jenga tower in front of them, held up by just five blocks and a hatred for physics. “I’m going to do it.”
Gueira’s eyes widen, frame going still. “Babe, no.”
“I have to, Gueira. It’s the only way to victory.”
“Guys,” Lio says, a shade annoyed, “the ice cream is melting.”
“Alright.” The redhead’s voice trembles, fingers clenching into white-knuckled fists. “If you think it has to be like this - “
“Stay strong. For me.”
There’s a sigh from the couch, followed by a tell-tale click of a camera. “Gueira, I’m eating your parfait.”
---
“You’ve ruined me.”
Fingers paused above his tablet, Galo twists around to watch Lio toss his keys into the lacquered bowl on top of their shoe rack. His cheeks are flushed from the brisk wind, hair hidden under a well-worn beanie.
(“Isn’t that Gueira’s?” Galo had asked last week. “Not anymore.” Lio had replied.)
“Hah?”
“I ran into the family that just moved in downstairs. Got invited in for a drink.” There’s a pause as Lio kicks off his shoes, padding into the kitchen to put the now-lukewarm milk away. “They have hamsters.”
Galo perks up. “What are their names?!”
“Mishka and Potya.” comes the prompt reply, as if Lio had been expecting the question. With a grin, Galo glances back down on his tablet, hoping there was an Instagram account dedicated to their exciting hamster lives. There’s a scuff of slippers against the carpet and then a heavy, warm weight drapes itself along Galo’s back.
“You’ve ruined me.” his boyfriend repeats, exasperation losing to the overwhelming fondness in his voice. “I can’t do small talk anymore.”
Galo frowns, tilting his head back as much as their current positions allow. “You’re great at small talk. You talked to someone about Excel templates and betta fish at that last charity gala for like, thirty minutes.”
“Romantic small talk.” Lio specifies. A finger idly skates down Galo’s arm, tracing along a prominent scar. “When people hear you live with a boyfriend, they always want...details. How you met, how you got together, tips on getting a boyfriend, for keeping a boyfriend… and I never know what to say.” There’s a hot puff of air against Galo’s ear, a cold nose pressing against his neck. “Have you tried hitting them in the face with a motorbike and pushing them off a building? ”
Galo’s laughter is loud and delighted. “Might be a bit difficult for most people, yeah.” His hands find Lio’s hair, scraping stray locks back behind his ear. “How about something easier? Like, try pointing a sword at them?”
Strong arms loop around his neck, a sharp chin settling on top of Galo’s head. “As it turns out, most people don’t own swords, either.”
“Shame.” It only takes a tilt of his head to press a kiss against Lio’s hand, lips lingering over the knuckle of his ring finger. “That was really hot.”
---
His third attempt involves a little too much lube and very little thinking whatsoever.
“Galo,” Lio whispers, soft and needy. His fingers tighten in Galo’s hair as he drags the firefighter into another kiss, hot, sweet and perfect.
Through months and months of extended (and delightful) exposure, Galo’s categorized all of Lio’s kisses by now.
There’s the soft kisses of good morning and welcome home, brushed sweetly against lips and foreheads. There’s the uncoordinated kisses of too-late nights and too-early mornings, smacked against Galo’s neck and between his shoulderblades. There’s the half-successful kisses after jokes and bad puns, ruined by helpless smiles and muffled laughter. There’s the I’m sorry kisses, tasting of crumbling composure and the frayed edges of the facade Lio thinks he needs to uphold. There’s the kisses on the wrong side of desperation, tasting of salt and adrenaline, accompanied by nails on skin.
There’s the kisses reserved for an audience Lio wanted to appease (pecks on the lips delivered with rom-com precision), kisses for an audience he wanted to piss off (with hands grabbing hips and a lot of tongue) and kisses for an audience he wanted to tease (with more teeth than tongue, leaving Galo’s lower lip swollen and their friends protesting).
There’s the kisses for stolen moments in dark corners and empty meeting rooms, breathless and eager to muffle every gasp and groan. And then there’s the kisses reserved for their bedroom, where Lio kisses like he has all the time in the world, with single-minded focus and scorching determination. Like he could do this forever - keep Galo teetering on the edge of bliss and combustion, pulse smouldering under flushed skin, mind blank save for the need for more, more, more.
Fingers cradle his cheek and Galo presses into the touch, moan lost against Lio’s lips. Violet eyes crinkle down at him and Galo’s heart stutters in hopeless adoration.
A little voice inside his head tries to remind him that proposals of forever should probably not coincide with sex. The much louder voices - giddy with hormones and warmth and anticipation - insist that no, no, this is a great idea. He’s been holding out for a perfect moment, and it’s hard to imagine how this - with Lio in his arms, eyes dark and lips still swollen - could feel any more perfect.
He opens his mouth - and promptly, Lio’s palm presses over it, cutting off his words (and breath) effectively.
“Let’s play a game,” his boyfriend purrs, eyes gleaming with a spark that’s always a precursor to long, fun nights. “I’m going to show you exactly what sort of daydreams kept me sane through my last meeting.” Nails drag down the firefighter’s chest, sharp and wicked in their promise. “And if you can keep quiet through all of it, I’ll give you a really nice reward. Okay?”
...well.
Shit.
A strangled sort of noise escapes Galo, torn between the desire to offer his very enthusiastic approval and to just laugh . The hand slips from his mouth, Lio’s smirk softening.
“Is that okay?” he murmurs, cocking his head to the side. “We don’t have to, if you’re not in the mood for it.”
His tone is sweet with concern, brows already scrunched with the beginnings of worry. Galo’s heart promptly melts.
“You’re on,” he tells his (sweet, beautiful, wonderful ) boyfriend, hands curling around his waist. His hips grind up to meet Lio’s, lips swallowing the blonde’s gasp. “Tell me about this really nice reward.”
“And ruin the surprise?” There’s teeth against his collarbone before clever fingers are making short work of his shirt. “Where’s the fun in that?”
---
His fourth attempt involves cold toes against his shin and a mouthful of hair.
It’s a little past eleven. Rain patters against the window and Lio’s drooling on his shoulder again.
Even with the biggest sense of bias on this side of the universe, Galo wouldn’t call slumbering Lio cute. The blonde alternated between a tight ball and a sprawling octopus of twitching limbs, splayed gracelessly across the mattress. His feet were always ice-cold, any socks escaping to the carpet within twenty minutes of getting under the covers. And that was before you considered all the twitching, the kicking and the drool.
As if on cue, Lio shifts closer, slurred words muffled into Galo’s neck. Dropping his phone, Galo reaches over to stroke his hair.
“Hey, firebug.” he whispers. “Will you marry me?”
Lio’s brows tighten, nose scrunching with the motion. When Galo makes a move to pull his hand away, he grumbles in protest.
“Later.” he mumbles, barely coherent. He butts his head against Galo’s fingers. “Sleep now.”
---
(Years and years later, when Galo recounts the story to their hysterically amused audience, Lio will bump their shoulders together.
“Most people would have seen that as a sign, y’know.” he will murmur in Galo’s ear once their loved ones are distracted by the prospect of food and drinks.
“Hah?” Galo will reply, hand settling on Lio’s hip with practiced familiarity.
“A sign - signs from the universe?” Lio will clarify, pressing closer. Soft blonde hair, collected into a ponytail, will brush against Galo’s elbow. “That it wasn’t meant to be.”
A memory will flash through Galo’s mind at that, still chillingly sharp in its clarity. Of a collapsing spaceship, smelling of smoke and steel. Of a limp body under his trembling hands, crumbling away before his eyes.
Some would call that a sign. Many would call most moments of their early relationship (their first, second, third meeting) signs from the universe - warning signs to stay away, to steer clear, to let go.
But Galo has never, ever been good at reading - taking, accepting - the signs when it came to Lio.
“Oh please, firebug.” he will scoff, tilting his head to bump their foreheads together. The scent of smoke will still cling to Lio’s skin, comforting and familiar. There will be thirty good years engraved into the laugh lines of his face, eyes still sparkling with the same fire that set Galo’s soul ablaze at the end of the world.
“I’ve fought the universe for you before, Lio.” he will remind his husband, delighting in the crows’ feet that gather with the blonde’s smile. “I’ll gladly do it again.”)
---
They both have the second Thursday of the month off.
The late afternoon light filters through the window, perfectly highlighting all the spots Galo missed whilst cleaning. The bathroom pipes gurgle, a soft undercurrent to the bathroom fan’s unholy screeching. Galo considers the succulents again, thumb swiping at the screen of his phone.
“The Internet says you need to be repotted.” he tells the biggest one, fingers worrying the thick leaves. If succulents could frown, he’s pretty sure he’d be on the receiving end of an exasperated glare. “I didn’t think you’d grow that fast, but - “
“HAH!!”
Lio’s voice echoes across the flat, sharp and triumphant. Before Galo can move a muscle, he bursts into the bedroom.
“Look at this!” A swathe of black fabric is thrust into the air. “Feast your eyes, Galo Thymos and witness my victory!”
From his comfortable seat on the floor, Galo blinks up at his boyfriend.
“That’s my shirt.” he supplies helpfully.
“Fresh from the laundry!” Lio adds, grin widening. He lowers his arms so Galo can take a closer look. “And still the same size! I have conquered the machine! ”
He throws his hands in the air again, taking the shirt with it. He looks dishevelled and ridiculously proud. Between their bed and the doorway - dressed in Galo’s workout clothes and uncombed four-day old hair - Lio looks happy.
The bedside cabinet is a short hop and reach away. When Lio whirls back to face him, Galo’s already on his knees, sweaty hands hidden behind his back.
Lio raises a brow. Galo’s stomach loops itself into a neat bow.
“I love you.” he says and Lio’s eyes soften alongside his smirk. “There’s something I wanna ask you...something I’ve been trying to ask you for a while now, actually.”
Well, fifth time’s the charm.
“I love you,” he repeats. It’s still a thrill to get to tell Lio that, the words still charged and precious. “I love you, and I want everything with you. I-I want routines and rituals and mountains of paperwork with both our names on it. I want more cacti and a shop that sells sweets and toothbrushes, with a garage next to it to put our bikes in. You make me burn so much brighter, and I want to make you so, so happy.” He pulls his arms back to reveal the tiny box. Lio sucks in a sharp breath and the sound pierces straight through Galo’s heart. “So, Lio Fotia...do you want to marry me?”
After the years and years of living and working together, Galo thought he had lost the ability to surprise Lio. But for a long, long moment, Lio can only stare at him, slack-jawed and wide eyed -
Right before he doubles over with laughter, shoulders shaking and hands pressed over his face.
If Galo wasn't so inexplicably charmed, he'd be a bit offended.
“Just - hang on, hang on, hang on - “
And then Lio is scrambling, yanking at drawers and tossing jackets aside - and before Galo can think to draw a breath, he’s standing before him again, cheeks flushed and hands hidden behind his back.
“Galo Thymos,” Lio says, eyes suspiciously bright and voice as shaky as Galo’s hands. “I’ll accept your proposal...“ And then he’s dropping to his knees, revealing an identical little velvet box nestled in his palms, “...if you accept mine.”
Galo thinks he says yes. He hopes there’s a yes, yes, yes, yes, YES amidst the breathless noises that gush from his throat, soon lost against Lio’s tongue.
The ring - his ring - is a gleaming onyx band with a single sparkling gem, framed by delicate diamond-shaped carvings and a pair of tiny triangles. As expected, it fits perfectly.
(“The sales lady told me it was one of a kind when I bought it, though!” Galo will exclaim a few hours later, tangled between the sheets and Lio’s arms. “This is totally from the same set!”
“She’s probably contractually obligated to say that about every ring, babe.” Lio will reply, voice still blissed-out and breathless. He will lift his hand above his head, the sparkle in his eyes eclipsing the glitter of the gem, and Galo will be obligated to smother him in kisses (again), all protests forgotten.)
His cheeks are somewhat dry again when Lio suddenly stills against him, pulling away abruptly.
“Hang on,” he pants. He drags a hand through his hair and Galo cannot help but nip at the now-exposed sliver of his neck. “Hang on, hang on, hang on - where’s the PowerPoint?”
“...Hah?”
Lio stares at him.
“Galo Thymos,” he begins, as if addressing an army before an invasion. His cheeks are flushed crimson and Galo loves him so, so, so much, “don’t even try to tell me that you had a proposal planned and it didn’t involve any presentations or signs or posters whatsoever!”
Well he’s not wrong.
“I do have a slideshow.” Galo admits. He noses against Lio’s collarbone, arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “Do you wanna see it?”
Hands cradle his jaw, thumb tracing along his lower lip. The ring is cool against his cheek, smooth and thrilling. “What a stupid question. Of course I want to see it.”
Galo’s hands slither down to the blonde’s thighs, pulling him further into his lap. “It’s fifty seven pages long, not counting the intro and outro.”
Lio laughs, shaking his head. His eyelashes are still damp with tears. “Are there stick figure drawings in it?”
“Lots.” Galo promises. With a soft huff, his fiance leans in for a kiss.
“Go on then. Show me.”
---
AN:
And that's a wrap!
Their rings are based on the official freaking rings (because that's a thing). I really love the theory/explanation that the Lio ring is much bigger because it was meant for Galo - and the Galo ring was meant for Lio. (I'm still not over that, God dammit Trigger....)
I just want to thank everyone again who commented and left kudos on this story - words can't quite express how much I appreciate them. I really hope you guys enjoy the conclusion - any thoughts are super appreciated <3