Three Months. You couldn't believe it. How had it been three months already? It still felt like yesterday you and your friends were face to face with evil sea-hitlers and demonic aliens and flying around without a care for the laws of physics. Even more unbelievable was how you ever fell in love with him.
It was funny how natural it all seemed, him laying his head in your lap, tinkering away at some new contraption. That crooked smile of his could melt your heart to butter (and he knew it), and every now and again you could just make out his eyes tracing your face through those dark, dorky, anime shades he loved so much. Three months since the two of you vowed to rebuild your friendship and become even closer after the "Great Jake Fiasco". Two months and three weeks since you succeeded a little too well and began the oddest courtship in the history of paradox space.
A smart girl, a normal girl, even a girl with nothing but good sense would have just said, "no" to being asked out by an avalanche of smuppets, would have run for the hills, but you were already far too gone. Besides being the most romantic (if at times unorthodox) guy you've ever known, he made you laugh. A lot. He loved your baking despite his distaste for anything Betty Crocker, embraced your mustache obsession, and developed so many ironic inside jokes, you can't not laugh at apple juice, anymore. And sure he had a weird passion for puppets and portraits of masculine horse nudity, but you never claimed he was perfect.
Just as your mind began to wander further down this topic, a sudden chill to your thighs brought you back to reality.
"Hey, Jane, you wouldn't happen to have any uranium lying around, would 'ya?" You didn't really answer, just sort of hummed a "no", and let him pace around your bedroom floor. He always got into a mood when he worked on his machines. Even if you did try and have a discussion on the ridiculousness of you having uranium in your house, it would only end up being one-sided. You didn't mind. It was nice watching him work so passionately. After a moment of disgruntled musing, he returned to your lap, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses sat. Combing through his light blonde hair with your fingers listlessly, you're reminded of why you asked him over in the first place. Your eyes darted to your desk and the ornamentally decorated envelope sitting on it. You really should have tried to bring it up.
You should have, but you chickened out at the last minute and continued to soak in this moment a little bit longer. The hours roll by and the two of you somehow got on the topic of the impracticality of (and utter ridiculousness of) ectobiology for the purpose of making a new breed of smuppet when your dad announced that it was probably time for Dirk to go home.
Not fifteen minutes after he's out the door, one of your chums started pestering you.
TG: well?
GG: ...
GG: Well…
TG: jane pls tell me u ddi NOT do the thing
TG: *did
GG: …
GG: ….
TG: jaaaaaannnnneeeeeeee
GG: I'm sorry!
GG: It's a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.
TG: Its not like ur asking hm for a kidney janey
TG: wahts the worst that can happen even?
GG: He's made it very clear he doesn't like these sort of things, though.
GG: You heard him. He called it,
GG: TT: A gathering of stuck-up, bureaucrats and their self-entitled children in the worlds most disgusting verbal orgies and political double reach arounds.
TG: yeah but only cause it is
TG: w the acception bein you of course
GG::B
TG: u still should ask him
GG: Hmmmm.
GG: I'll think about it.
And with that, you signed off and went to bed. Roxy never dropped it, though, and you knew she was right. What was the worst that could happen? He would still be your boyfriend, right? But you still felt bad about asking him to do something like this. He'd always been honest with you about how he felt (mostly in part because of your newly developed, deep fear of mind games and being manipulated again), and this was a pretty big one on the "No" list.