TWS: The prompt was given by someone who wishes to remain anonymous. They wanted me to make a prompt wherein Aaron asks Juliette out… And, well, read to find out the rest.

Oh! And I honestly don't proofread my works (yes, I'm actually good at proofreading, but I'm a very lazy arse).

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the story plot and the prompt collection. I wish I owned a fictional-to-an-actual-living-being machine though

Prompt 2: A Bed of Roses (part 1)

For the first time in my entire 17 years I'm able to sleep properly; continuously.

No nightmares or waking up in the middle of the night with a half-dead body, fishing and catching whatever oxygen my lungs could afford. The nightmares have stopped the moment I stopped dreaming of the white bird, and the person beside me must be the reason for this. The bird with a golden crown.

My eyes flutter open, flinching as I'm greeted by the all-too-happy sun and the green of Warner eyes in front of me, apparently more wide awake than me. There's a soft smile painted on his handsome face, and I'm wondering why my heart hasn't turned into a butterfly and left the comforts of my chest just so it could fly to him, to the warmth that surrounds him.

I don't know if it's right to feel the ache in my chest whenever I open my eyes to see a new day and find him lying beside me, greeting me with such tenderness; he's showing more and more of the boy I never knew of than the man I used to be afraid of everyday. Sometimes I would think that one day I might wake up from this paradise and end up back at the beginning of this never-ending game— back in Omega Point with nothing but just the illusion of what could've been.

But then I remember what he told me once. How he always thought that I was only an illusion in his catastrophic mind, but then he would see and feel what I feel for him, and that was all the proof he needed.

Him being here? That's proof enough for me to know that this is real, too.

"Good morning, love," he whispers, his hand gently touching my bare arms, and, as I try to fight away the shivers he had caused, I tell my brain to take a picture of this moment, of him, just like it does everyday when I wake up like this. It's a memory I'd like to go back to for no reason at all.

"'Morning, Aaron," I whisper back, smiling as he presses his lips against mine. It lasts a second shorter than I want it to be, and the absence of his soft lips elicits a whine from me. He smirks. Stupid.

"I'm guessing you slept nicely last night, then?" he says, raising an amused brow. I nod shyly as the memories of last night flooded my thoughts. He says, "I was wondering if you'd like to go out today?"

"Out? Out where?" We're required to go out everyday. It's a daily routine for us to go outside and do our appointed tasks; me with consulting the Council, Aaron with temporarily being the Supreme Commander. It's a title he doesn't feel he deserves because of his father, but I think so otherwise. He's been so great with handling all the situations the Council throws at him. I've already seen his projects being built everywhere—and with it, building the people's trust and respect. Sector 45's base has already begun its demolition, and so with the other sectors. They'll be transferring the bases into places that won't alarm the people. They want a better, more free country, and letting the military take over won't do any good for all of our healths. So they took down the bases.

And our base will be replaced by a house.

Which we'll be living in once it's finished.

I've never thought of the possibility of getting married or living in with anyone for life, and I might not even think about it in the days to come or the years lined up in front of us. It's a topic I want to delve on once he and I reach that part of the road. For now, I want to focus on this exact moment that's ticking into the history of our lives.

"A date, Juliette," he explains, chuckling at the blank look on my face. He says, "please don't tell me that you've never gone on a date before."

A pause. A blank stare. A slight shaking of my head. I knew what dating meant, though I've never gone out with anyone before, not even with Adam.

"Why?" I tell him, "have you?"

"Not really, no. But I think it'd be a great idea to have our first on this day."

"What happened on this day? The day we met?"

"No," he says so lightly that I'm taken aback with his next words, "it's the day you shot me."

I want to say something, to gather the missing thoughts and sentences in my puzzle of a mouth, but he goes on, quieter this time, "It's the day you woke me up and made me realize why I'm in love with you, why I had learned to regret the terrible act I had to trap you into. You opened my eyes and left me unblinking and unable to function properly, love."

I tell myself to swallow the tears building up in my eyes. "Oh, Aaron…"

He smiles again.

Whispers, "And I have never felt so grateful in my entire life until that day."

Stop falling for this boy again and again, I tell myself.

Too late.

Seconds and months and lifetimes too late.

I quickly seal my lips with his and I don't know how many seconds it has been or what time it took for this entire moment. Time is dissolving into sand and it's slipping away from my fingers for the first time in my life, but it doesn't scare me at all. He's managed to unwire this ticking bomb in my head and I love it.

He answers almost immediately, and I try to cool down the flame burning brighter and brighter inside me. His tongue begs for entrance and I give it all too quickly. His lips curve into a mischievous smile. He bites my lower lip, eliciting a loud moan from me. That's when I try so hard to calibrate and align myself with the world. I try to keep track of the seconds.

1…2… 8…

He lifts himself up, on top of me. His palm is on my stomach and my back arches in response. His other hand is holding mine, the spaces between our fingers fitting perfectly with one another, just like these cracked and flawed hearts.

I slip my hand away from his, placing both on his bare chest and slowly traveling into different places until it comes to contact with the marks on his back, with the word that are more than just letters. He groans and whispers into my ear, and I'm wondering why my heart is able to beat this fast without exploding in my chest.

10…13…20…

He's kissing me slowly, painfully, and it reminds me of our second kiss.

Aaron Warner Anderson is kissing me with such an intensity that I don't know if I'm falling or flying, or both.

He pulls away for a second to show how much he dislikes the shirt I'm wearing before taking it off of me and throwing it somewhere in the corner of the room.

"You need to stop wearing shirts whenever we're in this room, or in this entire house for God's sake," he says through ragged breaths, "it's a new house rule." He's already making his way down, leaving behind a trail of kisses on my skin. It takes forever for my eyes to focus again and the words to tumble out of my lips.

"God, Aaron"—a pause—"okay."

He replies with a contented mumble and continues whatever he plans on doing, very happy with the reaction he's getting from me.

And for God knows how long, the room was filled with the sounds of 2 names from 2 people's lips, short-lived gasps, and a cry that could only have come from my own mouth.

"You still haven't answered my question," Warner whispers, breaking the comfortable silence between us. I'm already sitting up, resting my head against the headboard, and he's still lying beside me, his arm around my leg. I'm wearing his shirt to prevent the cold air from touching me, which he said was "not necessary if you would lie down with me", to which I determinately rejected.

My silence is a second too long.

"Juliette?" he's worried now. "It's okay if you don't want to, love—"

"Yes."

"—I was just wondering if—" he stops and says, "what?"

"Yes," I say, louder this time. "I'd like to go on a date with you."

I give him a second to register what I said.

"You will?" he says, trying and failing to hide the excitement and hopefulness in his voice. It's adorable.

"Yes, I will. I really don't think it's healthy to repeat everything—"

He pulls me down for a kiss. Pulls away when I don't respond.

"What's wrong, love?"

"You interrupted me while I'm talking." It's an awful truth of mine: I get annoyed sometimes when people interrupt me while I'm speaking. Something I must've developed because of the Council. He knows this as well.

"Oh, sorry," he says.

The anger slowly lifts off my chest and I relax myself. I can't stay mad at him forever, especially with the look he's giving me right now.

"You're forgiven," I say, laughing at the change of his mood when he hears me say those two words. I continue, "but maybe you could make up for it?"

Confidence takes over once again and he's laughing as well, pulling me down as he says, "Of course. I'm just hoping that you're ready for round two."

A/n: Belated Happy Valentines! Part 2 is already up btw. I decided to make a part 1 and 2 because it's a special day wherein people like myself come to the realization that they're single! Hoorah!

Thanks to everyone who contributed to this fic, and by everyone I actually meant myself. I'm so great.

If you want to send a prompt, leave one in the reviews section or PM me at aaron-warner or kevinseyes on tumblr!