The car is dark, lit only by the lights from the dash and the occasional street lamp or car that passes you. Stan is staring out the passenger window, humming along to the radio (some old pop song you remember from high school, which makes you cringe a little inside but Stan loves it so you tolerate it). You would say your date was very successful, and now you're going to go home and change into pajamas and slide into bed with him, and maybe things will progress beyond just sleeping, or maybe you'll just cuddle until you both fall asleep. You'd be perfectly happy with either option.

"Hey, Koj?" Stan asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah?"

He doesn't say anything, and you wonder if maybe he fell asleep (it's been a rough week at work, and Stan especially has been working long hours, which is part of the reason you decided to go out). Finally, he says, "We should get married."

"What?" you blurt, because it takes you surprise.

"You know, tie the knot, make it official. I mean, it's been years, you know?"

"Well, yes, I figured that much," you snort.

"Is that okay?" he looks nervous, and if you weren't driving you would kiss the furrow in between his eyebrows.

"Of course it's okay. I love you, and I would love to get married."

He grins. "Okay, sweet. I mean, the courthouse is probably closed already, but maybe tomorrow-"

"What?" You slam your foot on the gas, and Stan has to brace his hands against the dash. "You mean now?"

"Koj, hon, we're in the middle of the street, at least pull over first."

"We can't get married now!" you screech.

His jaw drops. "Well, why not? You just said you wanted to get married!"

"Stan Flores, we cannot get married now, do you have any idea how long I have been planning to propose to you?"

"Wait, what?"

You throw your hands over your head in exasperation. "I have put so much planning into this! And the roses!" You lower your voice and stare him dead in the eye. "Do you know how many roses I have ordered, Stan?"

"Uh," he scratches the back of his head. "A few?"

"So many!" you cry. "So many roses, Stan! You could probably choke a horse with all the roses I have ordered!"

"Dios mío," he mumbles. "Koji, why?"

"Because I want it to be perfect! Besides, we can't just elope, your mother would never let us live it down!"

"If we have a full-blown wedding, she'll go way overboard," Stan grumbles. "She'll want to invite everyone and have it in a church and make a lot of food. I just want something small and simple, you know? Just us, a few friends and family members, short, sweet, and to the point."

"She will guilt us until she dies, Stan, and then she'll probably come back as a ghost and haunt us."

Stan snorts. "She'll bang pots together and slam cabinet doors and wail, 'por qué, hijo?'"

"On top of all the wasted roses, we will have to get an exorcist. Do you really want that, Stan?"

He sighs, "Okay, okay, fine. But only because I don't want to mess around with ghosts." He takes your hand and squeezes it. "You had me worried there for a sec. I thought you were gonna break up with me."

You roll your eyes. "Not by a long shot."

He chuckles and leans over the center console to kiss you. "So, what are you gonna do with all those roses?" he asks.

You smile against his mouth. "You're just going to have to wait to find out."