“What about this one?” I ask, stopping in the open doorway of my bedroom. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this. The first time I attempted to strike a pose, this time I just lift and drop my arms like it’ll show off the sweater any better. I’m running out of energy.
Khent glances up from the stove, the whisk in his hand scraping the bottom of the pot. “My answer hasn’t changed.”
I grumble, because it’s not a helpful answer.
“Babe, you look fine in everything. You’re stressing yourself out over nothing,” Khent says from the kitchenette.
He’s making some kind of lichen-based soup, which, while it smells good, tastes like absolutely nothing to me. Vaguely reminiscent of cardboard, perhaps. I hope there’s some leftover bouillon cubes in the fridge so I can mix half of one into my bowl.
He’s making soup, I suspect, because I’m starting to stress him out.
I return to digging through my closet, tossing one thing after another onto my bed like a big, uncomfortable nest of nerves. I’ve pretty much run out of outfits to try out, and I still can’t decide what to wear.
“She’s going to love you no matter what.”
“I know,” I repeat for the tenth time. I can’t really explain that this is as much a balm for my anxiety as it is exacerbating it. I do this every time there’s some big event I feel like I’ll be judged just for existing at.
“Then what’s the problem?”
I just kind of grumble and moan through a non-answer. I know it’s not all that important and that as long as I’m not wearing a t-shirt with an obscure gnome metal band, Khent’s mom isn’t going to think much about what I’m wearing.
Still, I wish I had some kind of manual to study. Or a script. Something to fall back on when I talk myself into a corner.
“Meeting your parents went well,” he points out, like he can reason with my thought process.
“I mean, that’s different. I’m pretty sure they still think we’re just dating,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice even, but there’s a hitch of guilt that gives me away. I wince as I drop some more shoes on the ground. “You remember how utterly weird I was about the whole mating bond thing at first. If I introduce it slowly to them, I think it’ll go over better.”
I hear the stove click down to its lowest setting, the creak of the floor under his weight as he goes to sit on my couch.
“How slowly?”
“Maybe we could tell them we’re mated… in a year?”
Khent hums a noise that I’ve now come to understand as ‘why do humans take so long to do anything’.
Some of the time I agree.
I pluck the last few things out of my closet and frown at them. I toss them onto the pile and shuffle back out of my room. I sigh heavily and cross the apartment to flop onto his lap.
Looking up at him, I trace the lines of his jaw with my fingertips. He’s borrowed one of my scrunchies to put his hair in possibly one of the worst buns ever constructed, and the black t-shirt he’s wearing fits his shoulders extra snug. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to seeing him out of work clothes.
“We still have to do all that paperwork for MR now,” I remind him. “Wouldn’t want to break the news until it was at least official.”
“The paperwork isn’t going to take a whole year,” he says.
“Mmm,” I hum playfully, but also because he’s still underestimating how slowly things get processed.
“Think of it this way: they’ll already have liked you for a while, so they’ll be excited to hear the news. Even if they don’t totally get what it means. And we’re not telling them about the Blood Fever part,” I ramble on, even though I know he doesn’t need any more convincing. We’re definitely in agreement on that. “Whereas, when I meet your mom, I have one shot to make a good impression.”
I don’t think he’s listening, though, the hundredth time I’ve said that just melds with all the previous times. Hell, I’m tired of hearing me say it. His gaze goes distant and his eyebrows narrow. For a moment I wonder if he’s staring at the stove, trying to figure out if he turned it down enough or not.
“Should we… be doing… the human equivalent?” he asks slowly, like he’s not sure he’s expressing himself right.
The human equivalent, of what, a mating bond? I don’t think there is one. But I watch the distant expression on his face, like he’s realizing he’s forgotten something important.
I stare at him a few moments blankly before I realize what he means. I bolt up in his lap and put my nose to his.
He stares back at me, and after a moment, takes off his glasses because I am fogging them up.
“What?”
“You fucked up, just now.”
He lifts an eyebrow, rubbing the corner of his t-shirt on the lens. “Did I?”
A maniacal grin spreads across my face. I kiss his neck and repeat gleefully, “You. Fucked. Up.”
“I don’t do this to you when you don’t know about Orcish things,” he points out. He’s right, but unlike him, I enjoy annoying the people I love.
“And I don’t make you order your own needlessly complicated coffee when we go across the street,” I counter.
“No one needs to be as extroverted as those baristas,” he sighs.
“They’re not gonna bite,” I roll my eyes, and drag my teeth along his jawline for effect. And for me.
He shifts in his seat, moving me with him. He props his head up in his hand, elbow on his knee as he looks at me. “So what’d I do wrong?”
I wriggle my way into a more comfortable position, laying out across the couch, my head in his lap. I can barely contain how evil this makes me feel. I’m going to show him videos of flash mobs and over the top public proposals. “First, the asking the question part is like, half of the whole thing. It’s a big deal. I’m not even supposed to know you’re gonna ask me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t know if I’m going to say yes or no.”
Khent scoffs, because that part is clearly ridiculous to him. “You’re my mate. Why would you say no?”
“Secondly–”
“There’s more?”
“SECONDLY,” I push on, extra determined now, “Some people make as big a deal about it as the actual ceremony.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. They get fancy about it. Some people wait until they’re in front of everybody they know, and then get everyone’s attention on them. And then they ask the question, not knowing how it’s going to turn out,” I whisper, like I’m telling a campfire story.
I’m quick to pull my phone from my pocket, and start searching videos of public proposals gone wrong. I scroll for a moment, looking for a particularly awful one that Lily had sent me a while back.
I glance back at Khent when I can’t find it, and realize he’s gone stone-still, and deeply quiet.
“Babe?”
This big guy who can’t make his way through a coffee order without apologizing four times, and won’t make eye contact with strangers unless he absolutely has to, looks like he’s actually considering everything I just teased him with.
It looks like it takes him every effort to ask, “And… that’s something you want?”
The look on his face softens my heart and melts away the mischief that had possessed me a moment ago. I reach up and touch his face, brushing my thumb against his cheek.
“I’ve already got what I want.”
