You and Dylan have been dating for years and living together for awhile. There are times when you guys can’t stand each other. Bickering, picking fights, difficulty communicating, having mood swings. For as long as you two have been together, it would be surprising if those sorts of things didn’t happen.
But you also love each other quite deeply. Infatuated with one another’s quirks, obsessed with the other’s mind, body, and soul, adore the little things, unable to get enough of one another.
You and Dylan respectfully don’t partake in PDA. You both like your privacy and everybody doesn’t need to know about your relationship. You’ll hold hands in public, but you prefer to keep your affection to a minimum while out and about.
Now, when you’re behind closed doors, that’s a different story.
Today, for example, you were both in a particular mood. You didn’t have to go anywhere, but Dylan had to go in the morning to set. He accidentally woke you up when he went to leave. When he realized you stirring, he gave you a peck on the forehead and whispered, “Sorry love, I’ll see you at dinner. We’ll make it a night in.”
You spent the day at home straightening up around the house and doing a little laundry. In the early evening you grabbed a quick shower and put on a cheeky pair of underwear and one of your favorite shirts of Dylan’s.
You were making dinner when Dylan arrived home. The radio was on and you were humming along to it when Dylan wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder.
“Whatcha makin’ babe?” he asks, placing gentle kisses on your neck.
“Chicken and pasta. Hopefully it turns out alright,” you answer.
Dylan’s hands wander, moving up to your breasts, surprised to find you not wearing a bra.
“Oh calm down,” you laugh, “I need to finish making this without you distracting me.”
“I think you’re the one distracting me,” he mumbles into your neck.
You laugh again and playfully shrug him off. “Go get a shower you goof and wind down for the night.”
“Movie tonight?” he asks, already walking off to grab a shower.
“Yeah, go ahead and pick one when you get out.”
Dylan grabs a quick shower, putting on only a pair of sweatpants on, and puts the movie in. You finish making dinner and join him, serving two plates on the coffee table.
You sit down on the couch beside him and he starts the movie.
“This is really good babe, thank you,” he says, shoving another forkful into his mouth.
Once you’re both done eating, you situate yourselves more comfortably. Dylan stretches his legs out on the couch while you half lay on him and half beside him, your head resting on his chest. You both wrap yourselves up in a nice warm blanket, keeping your half naked bodies warm.
At some point during the movie, you fall asleep. Between Dylan playing with your hair, and the warmth and comfort of his heart beat, the drowsiness took over.
Dylan wiggled his way out from underneath you, picks you up, and carries you to the bedroom. You wake at him picking you up, but you play lazy and just nuzzle your head into his chest.
He lays you down, pulling the covers over you. All you manage is a sigh.
He joins you in bed and you roll over and cozy up next to him. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in closer to him.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“Marry me,” he whispers back.
“Yes,” you smile, even as you kiss him with acceptance, suddenly very giddy and very awake. “Yes, of course yes.”