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Glow-In-The-Dark
Quatre scrubs his teeth with the toothbrush, wiping away excess toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. Trowa leans against the doorframe to the bathroom with arms crossed, a small smile stretching his full lips. Quatre glances at him in the mirror, crossing his aqua eyes and making a face as well as he can with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. Trowa chuckles, moving forward to wrap his arms around the blond's waist. Quatre spits out the toothpaste, rinsing his toothbrush before leaning back into his boyfriend's chest. Trowa just gazes at Quatre in the reflection of the mirror.
"What?" the smaller man asks, a small pink blush dusting his cheeks.
Trowa just smiles brighter. "You're just so beautiful," he murmurs, eyes locked on Quatre still.
The blond looks down at his baggy Superman T-shirt (which is really Trowa's), his mussed up hair, and his holey plaid pajama pants. Beautiful isn't the exact word he would choose to describe himself, but he's learned to never argue with Trowa about it. Instead, he twists in the taller man's arms, resting his hand on one of Trowa's cheeks before kissing the other. "I love you," he says.
The arms around Quatre tighten, making him smile. "I love you too, Quatre. So much," Trowa mutters, turning his green eyes from the mirror to meet Quatre's aqua ones. He turns Quatre the rest of the way in his arms so that they are facing each other. Tiptoeing, the blond presses his lips to the brunet's, enjoying the feeling of his soft lips. Trowa's hands cup Quatre's face, cradling it like the younger man is made of fragile glass. Quatre is less cautious: his fingers go to the nape of Trowa's neck, knotting in the hair there, pulling their faces closer together. He can feel the smile on his boyfriend's lips when he does this. Quatre loves it.
Trowa breaks the kiss, pressing a light one to Quatre's forehead. The blond walks out of the bathroom, Trowa smacking his bum cheekily on his way out. Quatre turns to him, waggling a suggestive finger to him as he backs up to the bed. The brunet smirks, quickly following his boyfriend to the bed. When the two are under the blankets together, Trowa flips off the lamp on his bedside table, engulfing the room in darkness. But Quatre notices the room isn't completely dark. He looks around trying to find the source of light. Trowa leans over, kissing his neck. Quatre tilts his chin up, allowing him better access, and that's when he sees it.
"Will you marry me?" spelled out in glow in the dark stickers on the ceiling.
A gasp escapes young Arab, whispering past his lips. He sits up in the bed, staring at the words in shock. Quatre's head turns to Trowa, aqua eyes asking if he is serious. He is still lying in the bed, but a small box is in his hands, displaying a gorgeous ring. Quatre's eyes start to water, and his heart is pounding. This is really happening. His dream is really coming true.
"Quatre, will you do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me?" Trowa gazes up at his boyfriend hopefully, a smile teasing his lips.
Quatre flings himself on him, kissing all over his face: his cheeks, his lips, his forehead, everywhere. He punctuates each kiss with a gleeful "yes!"
Trowa is chuckling under his fiancé's loving kisses. He wraps his arms around Quatre's waist, hugging him close. "You just made me the happiest man in the world," he tells Quatre when he finishes his kisses, staring into aqua eyes.
Quatre rests his chin on his fiancé's chest. "I'm pretty sure you just made me the happiest man in the world," he tells Trowa, beaming.
"I love you," Trowa says, kissing Quatre's nose.
"And I love you," he says as Trowa slips the engagement ring on the blond's left ring finger.