Hello, readers!
I know I should be working on New School right now (or maybe one of my other two stories I've been stupidly abandoning), but once I got the idea for this one-shot, I couldn't stop myself from writing it.
This is a short one-shot that shows how Ross would have proposed to Rachel if he had been given the chance, based off of how he described he would in season eight, episode eighteen.
This story is from Ross's point-of-view. I purposely don't specify when this takes place in the storyline of the show, so you readers can decide for yourselves.
I hope you guys enjoy!
Tonight is the night.
My heart beats wildly in my chest. If I don't calm my nerves, I may wind up having a heart attack before I can even get around to popping the question.
That's right: the question. I'm going to ask Rachel to marry me. Tonight.
All the worst thoughts imaginable run through my mind. What if she says no? What if she doesn't want to marry me? What if it's too soon? Or did I wait too long? No, I tell myself. She'll say yes. I remind myself of all the great times we've had together. I remind myself of how much I love her and how much she loves me back. I remind myself of how we're meant to be together. I relax, the question currently running through my head being: Why wouldn't she want to marry me?
I'm pleased that there is no good answer to this question. Of course she would want to marry me. We're meant to be . . . made for each other . . . soul mates. . . .
Lobsters.
The word pops very suddenly into my head, and I can't seem to figure out where it came from. And then I remember: that's what Phoebe said Rachel and I are. Lobsters. I'm surprised I even forgot. Now that I think back to it, I can practically hear Pheebs rambling the crazy words all over again:
She's your lobster.
It's a known fact that lobsters fall in love and mate for life. You can even see old lobster couples walking around their tanks, like, holding claws.
I'm not sure if I remember the wording exactly right, but the message is still clear enough. Rach and I will be together forever. Nothing will ever pull us apart.
I look myself over in the bathroom mirror. I have to admit: I look pretty darn good. I'm in a nice-looking suit and tie, and my hair is looking much better than usual. I worked for about an hour on it.
I remember a time when Rachel and I had just started going out, and I was hanging out at Monica's a lot. Like two kids, we fought over the bathroom in the morning—just like old times. We really were acting childish around that time. We called each other names, bickered, and even had to be reprimanded by Rach—as if she were our mother.
But tonight, I didn't need to use Monica's apartment to get ready. Rachel has been living with me for nearly a year now, meaning we haven't exactly needed to stay overnight at any apartment other than our own. Of course, that didn't stop Rach from wanting to get ready at Monica's instead of here. I guess she figured it would be more fun to have Mon's help or to gossip or whatever it is that women do when they're together.
I fantasize about how Rachel will look.
I feel a glow just thinking of her . . . and the way she'll look tonight. I smirk inwardly at the thought.
I check the clock.
6:37
Perfect. We agreed that I would pick her up at around a quarter to seven, and it's a pretty short walk from my apartment to Monica's, as we live just across the street from each other. After another quick glance in the mirror—mainly to build confidence—I head out of my apartment.
. . .
Seven minutes later, I find myself in front of the door to apartment 20. I check my watch to see that I arrived just in time. I knock, not too hard, but not too soft.
A true sign of nervousness: paying close attention to your knocking so you don't mess it up. As if louder or quieter knocking would make Rachel not want to marry me. Yeah, you know how women love a guy with a good knock. I chuckle to myself. Chandler isn't the only funny one!
And then the door opens. I'm left standing before the most beautiful sight I've ever laid my eyes upon: Rachel.
I don't even know if she has done anything different, or if I'm always this shocked when I realize that I'm with her. It really is an unbelievable fact. She's just so . . . amazing. Gorgeous. Perfect.
Sometimes, I lay awake at night, just thinking about how lucky I am. It's hard to even wrap my mind around the fact that fate matched me up with her. That I'm her lobster. But I know I am; I know we're meant to be together.
I realize that I haven't even spoken since she's opened the door. I say the only thing that comes to mind: "Wow." It comes out in an awed whisper, causing Rachel to giggle softly.
"Thanks," she replies, knowing exactly what I meant by "wow". She knows by now that my breathless reactions to her mere presence are compliments.
She truly is stunning. She has on a long black dress, and her copper hair is indescribably lovely. She's just . . . beautiful.
I finally manage to form words. "You look amazing." I'm sure she already knows that, but I still like to remind her.
She smiles an amazing smile and replies with: "You don't look too bad yourself." After a moment of us silently gazing at each other, she speaks again. "So, where are we going tonight, anyway?"
"It's a surprise," I reply with a smug grin.
"Okay, fine," she gives in, though I can tell she's eager to find out. "I'll be patient."
Pretty soon, we're headed off to what Rachel believes to be an ordinary date.
. . .
I stand behind Rachel, my arms wrapped around her with my hands covering her eyes, as I guide her through the building.
"Can't you just tell me where we're going?" she whines with feigned annoyance.
I just laugh in response. A minute later, we're where we need to be. "Okay, I'm removing my hands now."
"Finally," she mutters, but I can hear the lightheartedness hidden behind the bitterness. I slowly—and teasingly—slip my hands away from her eyes. When my hands are finally back down by my sides, I walk around Rachel to her front to gauge her reaction. I smile when I see her stunned silent with her mouth dropped open and her eyes wide in surprise. "Oh, my God," she breathes in a voice barely above a whisper. Then, she turns to speak directly to me. "The museum."
"Yeah," I whisper, taking her hand in mine. "Where we had our first date."
Rachel adds: "Where we first . . . you know."
I chuckle slightly at the memory. "Yeah, although the morning after was . . . interesting, to say the least."
She laughs along with me. "Yeah."
I remember that morning as if it were only yesterday. Waking up—completely naked—inside one of those caveman displays with a group of school children peering through the glass at us. It was horrible and embarrassing at the time, but I can laugh about it now.
Rachel's voice snaps me back to reality. "So, now what?" she asks in an excited—and kind of seductive—whisper.
"Well, you're going to hate me, but . . ." I trail my voice off.
"But what?"
"I'm gonna need you to close your eyes again." I cringe, anticipating her reaction. She simply sighs and does as told, sealing off her vision. Just in case, I cover her eyes with my hands again, wrapping my arms around her in the same manner as before when I lead her in here. I begin moving, directing her toward the desired location. When we arrive, I tell her to keep her eyes closed, even after I remove my hands. I quickly—as not to keep her waiting—run over to mess around with the equipment in the room until everything is set up on the desired timer. I walk to where I'm standing about a yard away from her, and a huge grin forms unstoppably on my face. "Okay. You can open your eyes now."
When she does so, she immediately gasps at the sight before her. We're in the planetarium, which I had filled with lilies—her favorite flower. The flowers are everywhere.
My smile grows broader as I count down the seconds in my head. Just in time, the room fills with the sweet sound of music.
Some day, when I'm awfully low . . .
The lights come down.
When the world is cold . . .
I get down on one knee.
I will feel a glow, just thinking of you . . .
Rachel's hands fly up to her mouth in shock.
And the way you look tonight.
This coming from the girl who always predicted when we had a surprise party planned for her, I can't help but let out a small chuckle.
Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm,
And your cheeks so soft.
There is nothing for me but to love you . . .
I smile, and the smile is returned.
And the way you look tonight.
Stars slowly begin forming in the mock sky of the dome.
With each word, your tenderness grows,
Tearing my fear apart.
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose . . .
It touches my foolish heart.
More and more stars materialize into view.
Lovely. Never, ever change.
Keep that breathless charm.
Won't you please arrange it?
'Cause I love you . . .
The stars are now clustered together, and enough have formed for Rachel to understand the message.
Just the way you look tonight.
I pull out the ring just as the last star appears, finishing off the life-changing message of: "Will you marry me?"
Tears of joy blur Rachel's eyes. She nods several times before she's finally able to get the single needed word out. "Yes."
We immediately embrace, hug, kiss. I slip the ring onto her finger. We wrap our arms around each other again, holding on so tight and knowing that this is how it will stay forever.
Mm, mm, mm, mm.
Just the way you look tonight.