Summary: Sequel to "Home", and answer to The Third Biker Scholar's challenge in her 63rd chapter of "The First". Throttle and Charley have been living together and dating for more than two years now, but Throttle has yet to pop the question. Clean romance, no sweet juicy citrus here, and especially no sour ones. R&R please; this is my first time writing for BMFM in a very long time.

The First Proposal

A breeze blew over Lake Michigan, rustling the grass and trees. It was a sunny spring evening, but with enough clouds to provide a few moments of shade from time to time. Throttle and Charley sat on Throttle's bike, enjoying the day together. A breeze blew Charley's hair and Throttle leaned his muzzle into her neck. "Mmm…I never get tired of watching your hair blow in the wind, babe."

From her position on his lap, she leaned into his touch. She didn't have to say anything; there wasn't anything she could say. Instead, she just sat there wrapped in his arms. Some moments passed, and Throttle sneezed. Charley chuckled. "A piece of hair go in your nose again, eh?"

"I won't complain. Deal's good for what I get." A few moments passed, then Throttle said, "You know, it sucks to say, but when we have kids we won't get moments like these that much."

"Makes us appreciate them all the more," Charley replied, closing her eyes and leaning back. "You really think we'll be able to have kids?"

"I try not to think about whether we can or can't. I'm an optimist. Besides, won't know until we try, will we?"

"Mmhmm…" Charley mumbled quietly. "We have to get married first, though." She giggled as he nuzzled her neck, his soft fur brushing up against the sensitive skin behind her ears. She turned around and their lips met.

In truth, though Charley did not realize it, the minute she mentioned marriage, Throttle's insides seized up. He showed no signs of his worry in his affections, but something cold gnawed at his belly. Still, he paid it no mind. Life was about living for the moment, and there were very few moments that were as satisfying as this.

Throttle's bike pulled into the Last Chance, with Charley seated behind him. She unwrapped her arms from around him and dropped off the bike, fishing for her keys in her pocket. It wasn't until she tried to step forward and found she couldn't get more than three feet from the bike that she noticed the tail slung around her jeans through the belt loops. She turned around and saw Throttle smiling through his helmet wickedly. In response, she pinched his tail with her nails, though not without a mischievous grin of her own, and despite the sharp pain in his tail, Throttle couldn't help but smile as well. He let her go and she moved towards the door, inserting the key. The door opened, but the engine to Throttle's bike started up again. Charley turned around and placed her fists on her hips. "Oh no, where do you think you're going, my mouse?"

He turned to look at her over his shoulder. Through the helmet, he said, "I'm just heading up to the Scoreboard for a while. I need to do some thinkin's all. I'll be back, don't worry."

Charley closed the door and walked up to him. As soon as she got beside him, she poked his chest and mock glared at him. "I'll see you tonight, right Fearless?" she asked. Throttle nodded with a smile and pulled his helmet on, then drove out of the garage and shot down the street.

Throttle's tail swished slowly from his position atop the Quigley Field Scoreboard. He leaned over the railing, inspecting a little red leather box intimately. I've had this for three weeks now…what's wrong with me? Throttle opened up the box and looked at the diamond ring inside, admiring the way the light from the stars and the city glinted off its contours. There was even an inscription underneath: carpe diem.

Throttle sighed as he inspected the box. Why was he getting cold feet all of a sudden? He loved Charley, there was no doubt about that. He wanted to be with her until he died, and after if possible. Yet for some reason that he could not see, every time he thought about popping the question, the fear gripped his stomach and his nerve failed him.

Throttle knew he wasn't afraid of settling down. He was no Vinnie; commitment was not a dirty word to him. Was he afraid of being rejected? No, Charley had hinted far too often that she wanted marriage now. She probably thought him an idiot, that he was missing all the cues. Finally, he concluded, he didn't know why he was nervous. All he knew was that the feeling in his gut had incapacitated him every time he'd worked up the nerve to ask her.

Throttle shook his head. I can't let Charley go that easily…gods, what's stopping me? He closed the leather box, deposited it in his vest pocket and buttoned it up. Maybe he could plan out the perfect moment. Yeah, I'll take her to this really nice restaurant and…no, that won't work. She's not that into fancy stuff. Throttle sighed and dropped his head into his arms on the rail. What the hell was he going to do? He needed to work up the nerve, otherwise he was risking losing Charley.

Throttle broke out of his reverie when he heard his bike beep. He frowned and went to the other side of the 'Board, and saw his bike beeping wildly. Still scowling, he ran down the steps to meet her in the parking lot.

When Throttle arrived, he noticed that the comm unit on his helmet was flashing. He put his helmet on and hit the button. "Hey Charley-babe, what's up?"

"Figured I should let you know that Vinnie and Modo are on a communicator, and they say that they're on a ship headed to Earth."

Throttle nodded. "Got it. See you in a few, Charley-girl." He deactivated the comm unit and engaged the safety glass on his helmet, then mounted his bike. "Let's go home, darlin'. Looks like we might be having company."

Throttle opened the door to the comms room at the Last Chance, stifling a yawn. It was past midnight, what were Vinnie and Modo doing calling at this hour?

"Now listen Vincent, just because you're a few billion miles away right now doesn't mean I can't hit you with a bazooka," Charley threatened into the communicator.

Throttle smiled and walked up behind her. Stopping her in mid-rant, he wrapped his tail around her waist and lifted her from the chair. She yelped in surprise, but as soon as he sat down she was lowered onto his lap, and she settled for frowning at him. Throttle pecked her on the cheek and smiled again before turning to the communicator. "So to what do we owe the honour of the great Vinnie Van Wham's call?"

"Well," Vinnie said, grinning smugly through the fuzzy picture, "I figured we were going to be in the neighbourhood, and that a ménage a trois wouldn't be- OW!" Vinnie rubbed the back of his head and glared at Modo, who had hit him with his metal arm.

Modo rolled his eye and looked at Throttle. "Ignoring motor-mouth here, we were just thinking of stopping by for a visit. The restoration of Mars won't go any slower with a few motor heads a scientist, and a general gone."

Stoker's face came into the picture. "Bah, scientist. Just because I can figure out how to fuse molecules into water, everybody thinks I'm a genius. Synthetic water isn't that great, you know."

Throttle smiled. "Hey coach, how's it going?"

"Terrible!" Stoker said, throwing his arms up. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to control Vinnie? What did you have to go and fall in love for if it meant leaving your adopted daddy with the garbage?"

Modo shrugged. "Hey, we dealt with him. Figured it's time you learned to share our pain. He hasn't stopped complaining about Vinnie for the past two years," Modo explained to a bewildered Charley. "But honestly, can you blame him?"

Charley laughed. "No, I guess not. Snowball can be a bit of a handful."

Modo clapped a hand over Vinnie's mouth just as he screeched, "DON'T CALL ME-" As soon as he had the chance, Vinnie punched Modo and the two vanished from the screen as they tussled about.

Throttle chuckled. "Anyways, am I going to have to drop in an anonymous tip to the manager at the Field that he's going to need to shell out for another scoreboard?"

"No, you don't," Carbine's voice sounded from the comm. "I'm piloting. Rimfire, hold it steady for a bit, could you?" Everything went silent on the other line for a few moments, aside from the sounds of Vinnie and Modo wrestling, until Carbine came into view of the screen. "Hello Throttle, it's been a while. You don't need to worry about a new scoreboard; I'm a much better pilot than these macho mice."

Stoker frowned. "And people say that I'm sexist…bah, women."

Carbine ignored Stoker, but turned to the others. "Guys? Could you give Throttle and I a few moments alone please? I need to talk to him." A few seconds, then, "Vincent, Modo, OUT! Stoker, help please?" Carbine vanished from the screen.

Throttle looked down and kissed Charley. "I'll be out in a bit babe. You know Carbine; she won't say a word till she's sure we're alone." Charley nodded and got up from his lap, then walked out the door.

Throttle watched her leave, then turned back to the screen, trying his best to ignore the shouts of "OUT! OUT, NOW!" A few more moments passed, then Carbine came back in front of the screen, looking all business. "Alright Throttle, we need to talk." Throttle was confused; they'd agreed, they were cool with what happened. Carbine frowned deeply at him. "Two years, Throttle. Two years that I've been waiting, and you STILL haven't got me in a bridesmaid's dress!"

Of all the things Throttle had expected to hear, that was the least likely. He frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Have you even got a ring yet?" Carbine asked. Her expression softened somewhat as he took out the little red box. She sighed. "Throttle, don't make the same mistake with Charley that we made."

"Somehow I don't think a war's in the way this time," Throttle replied.

"I'm not talking about the war," Carbine said seriously, "I'm talking about how we both procrastinated. We found other excuses, other things to do before deciding to settle down, and that decision never came. We fell apart because we kept putting our feelings on the backburner. Well now you're in love with Charley, and I'll be damned if I let you do the same thing wrong twice. Stop overplanning it, stop waiting. Just…just do it, already."

Throttle nodded, sighing. "Yeah…I know. You know, I could do it tomorrow. There's this great little pond, and-"

"Don't tell me," Carbine admonished. "Keep it in your head; that way you won't forget about it. I'll be landing the ship in two days, Throttle; I expect to see that you've proposed by then, or I'll rip your tail out by its roots. Understood?"

Despite himself, Throttle smiled. "Got it, general."

"Good. I'll see you in two days, Throttle." With that, Carbine cut the transmission.

Throttle disconnected the microphone and turned off the screen, smiling. Leave it to Carbine to stoke some fire in him with that old military flare. Throttle stood up and walked out of the room, moving to the kitchen. A late night snack wouldn't hurt before getting to bed. That notion was erased, however, when he saw Charley at the table going over his bills. Well…perhaps a different sort of late night snack was in order.

Throttle walked up to Charley and put his hands on her arms. He didn't say anything, just lifted up gently, and she followed suit. Throttle led her into the living room; as soon as they got near the couch, he captured her in a deep kiss. They stood there for what seemed like ages before they broke apart. Though a little dazed, Charley asked, "And what was that for, if I may ask?"

Throttle smiled and sat her down on the couch, then took the seat beside her. "Well, I've been meaning to talk to you about something important." He took one of her hands in his and said, "When we get married…I was wondering if you would like to move to Mars?" A look of surprise crossed Charley's face. "You don't have to say yes or anything, babe," Throttle said quickly. "I don't care where we are, not if it's us. I'd never move you if you didn't want to move, but I know you never really had a chance to see Mars your last visit."

"Being the prisoner of a stinkfish can put a bit of a damper on things," Charley joked.

Throttle smiled. "Yeah, and I'd love to get the chance to show you around. I could show you my old cave. I'd love to settle down with you there, or maybe we can find a place to live in Brimstone or Ashcrater or one of the big cities."

Charley looked at him straight through his sunglasses. "You've really put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"

"Almost every waking hour of every day. It's been bugging me for weeks, and it's even worse when I think about the fact that I'm living under your roof and eating your food."

Charley frowned. "Oh no, don't start that macho mouse crap with me, or I'll make you eat it."

"It's not about macho," Throttle said. "I don't care that it's what you own, I care that it's not something we own, together. I want to live somewhere we both own, maybe even somewhere we built ourselves."

Charley's expression softened. "Throttle, I don't care where we are. I only have one condition to living on Mars: if we live anywhere near a city, we set up a new Last Chance. I don't want to spend my days doing nothing."

Throttle laughed. "Babe, you're the best wrench-jockey this side of Andromeda, and believe me, I've seen more than a few. Even if we weren't living near a city, people would come from all over the world to get a bike made or repaired by the woman who was behind the bikes of the Biker Mice From Mars. And I'll be there with you, every dirty, oily engine block along the way, no different than the last two years." His expression sobered slightly. "So, you really want to come to Mars with me?"

Charley pushed him back and straddled his lap. "Being oily and dirty on Mars sounds sexy…and I wouldn't do it with any other mouse than you." Throttle's vision flickered as she leaned down and pulled him in for another kiss.

The next morning, Charley stood wiping her hands off. She hated engine blocks; they were stupid and deserved to go to hell. She checked the time. 11:45. She sighed; the work day was only three hours gone and she had only fixed one bike and removed the engine block from a beat-up pick-up. She tossed the cloth aside, and noticed Throttle stepping out to door. With a smile, he tossed her a bottle of water. She caught it and started guzzling gratefully; this was going to be a long day.

Her eyes followed him to the entrance, and she frowned as he turned the "Open" sign to "Closed". Wiping her mouth off with a clean part of her sleeve, she said, "We aren't going to get many customers that way, you know."

Throttle shook his head. "Break time." He grabbed Charley's helmet off a nearby table and tossed it to her, then grabbed his own. His sunglasses glinted in the sunlight. "Come on, we're going for a ride."

Charley watched the forest trees fly by as the soared down the highway. "So remind me, where are we going?" Charley yelled over the wind for what seemed the millionth time.

"You'll see when we get there," Throttle yelled back. Charley huffed; he was being infuriatingly coy. Suddenly, Throttle veered off the road and took an off-road path through the woods. Charley tried to ignore the ache the bumping was giving her in her butt as she held tight to Throttle. They drove for nearly ten minutes before the path became too narrow for the bike to fit. Throttle turned off the engine and dismounted, holding out his hand to Charley. "Milady," he said with a sly smile. Charley eyed him, but took his hand and got off the bike as well. With a smile, he set aside their helmets and led her down the path until all that was left was a few crushed leaves and bent stalks to show that people had been here.

Throttle smiled even wider as the path opened up into a beautiful green glade. The centerpiece was the pond, with sunlight glinting off the undisturbed waters, seeming to make the air itself shimmer. Charley's mouth was agape. Throttle grabbed her hand in his. "You like it?"

"This is beautiful, Throttle," she said. She let go of his hand and wandered ahead, crouching by the rocky borders of the pond. "How did you find it?"

"I was out riding one day a few weeks back," Throttle said, walking up behind her. "But I put off taking you here, because…" His voice trailed off.

Charley turned back to him and stood up. "Because why?"

Throttle didn't answer. Instead, he held her hands and kissed her, long and deep. They stood there for an eternity, it seemed, before he pulled back and released one of her hands. When he did, his breath was ragged, and Charley could feel his hand shaking. He noticed that she was aware, and said, "Because I was scared…I was afraid. I was putting it off, because I was afraid to do this." His hand reappeared between them with the little red leather box. Releasing her other hand, he opened it and looked down into her eyes. "Charlene, would you marry me?"

The world stopped for Charlene. She didn't even notice the ring except that it was there. All she could see were those shades which kept his eyes functional. She reached up slowly and took them off, surprised to see that there were in fact tears in his eyes. She leapt up and kissed Throttle, knocking them both over onto the grass. She looked at him from over top with a smile lighting up her face. "Yes, yes I will!" Throttle's reply was lost as she kissed him again, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

When they broke apart, Throttle stared at her through hazy eyes. Dazedly, he said, "You know…we should probably get back to work now."

Charley shook her head. "Not yet…it can wait a while. Work comes every day, but this…this is once in a lifetime."

Author's Note

So…this is my romance practice. A little background:

"The First Proposal", though named for the challenge that The Third Biker Scholar issued, is the sequel to my previous one-shot songfic, "Home". "Home" was my first attempt at setting up romance, but this is in fact my first attempt at portraying a developed romance. If at all possible, I would like some reviews for this. Keep in mind, though, that I'm portraying a romance that I view has already developed over two years. You don't really see it here, but there are as many downs in their relationship as there are ups, but that's what makes them appreciate the good stuff that much more. I think that maybe I do a bit too much of the kissing, but I'm not sure, so I'll leave that up to you guys to decide.

I would like to thank The Third Biker Scholar for looking this over and giving it her stamp of approval for all things grammar and flow. I'd also like to put a shout out and thank you to a writer on FurAffinity named Alflor, whose writings I had read previous to writing "The First Proposal" and whose stories stoked the fires of romance. The stories are by no means perfect – like anything, they could be better – but they are still a fun read.

Till next time, readers!