Yes

I whined and huddled into him, and with a nervous laugh he pressed my head to his chest. I knew he was still watching on as I felt him stiffen in my arms, but I couldn't bear to turn back yet. After a few minutes he relaxed, and stroked my hair.1

"It's gone," he breathed, referring to the spindly-legged creature that had been terrorising the people on screen. This was his first time watching The Thing, but it was my second. I was mildly embarrassed at how well he handled it, but also secretly enjoying cuddling into him. I slowly raised my head, and saw the actors looking shaken, and one fewer in number.2

"What happened?" I asked, looking up into my boyfriend's shining eyes. It was dark, but past the reflection of the television I could just make out the near-black pools of hazel under his long eyelashes. He glanced down, and saw me staring up at him. 3

After a brief double take, he looked face-on at me. We had a slightly skewed view of each other, me looking up and sort of upside down at him, but our eyes locked. His eyes smiled at me with something breaching on adoration, and I guessed that I must have looked the same. By habit, I looked down at his soft, perfect lips, and reached out to stroke them. 4

"What was the question?" He asked, gently kissing my finger as he spoke. Slowly, I raised my head, and we shared a long, gentle kiss. My favourite kind.5

"I said what did I miss?" I grinned, never able to keep my smile hidden from him. Even when we argued, keeping a straight face was near impossible. So much about him made me happy.6

"The doctor-guy died. The Thing just sort of... skittered away." He shifted position to disguise his shudder. Sinking lower into the bed, he pulled me into him. I breathed out a long, happy sigh, and put my head on his shoulder. His bare chest was warm under my hand, and his breathing swept through my hair. I could have lay there forever, scared out of my wits and smug that no one in the world was as happy as me.7

The film ended at last, but not before we'd shared a few yelps, and he'd let out several strings of swear-words. As I eagerly killed the TV, I turned to look at him. I didn't want to point it out to him, but his rich, Italian skin had paled a little in his face, and his eyes still shone beautifully with fear. 8

"I told you it was scary," I grinned, cuddling him. He swelled a little with indignance, just enough that it was cute.9

"It wouldn't have been as bad if it didn't have those legs! They were horrible!"10

I agreed with a laugh. We shared an intense fear of spiders, but somehow the adoreable screams he let out when one was near made them less scary for me. 11

Sitting up, I looked down at him. He stared into space, his dark eyebrows relaxed and his straight, white teeth nibbling on his lower lip. I took a moment to admire him - he calls it 'perving' but it's completely innocent. 12

My eyes wandered down from his face to his chest, which was mostly uncovered. One hand was under his head, the other holding the quilt against his stomach. I've always liked strong-looking hands, and my boyfriend hand soft, tanned skin, which complimented them well.13

"You perv," came a smooth, fond voice, and I embarrassedly looked up at his face. It was creased in a wide grin, and I responded with a smile of my own.14

"It's not perving."15

"It is where you were looking." He winked. My first boyfriend used to wink, and it made me ill. However, when Russ did it, it sent a pleasant ripple through me. 16

"I was looking at your hand!"17

"Exactly. Hand fettish." He laughed, shielding his face before he'd even finished talking.18

Laughing, I nudged him playfully in the ribs, and he pretended to be hurt. He lunged at me, the hands I so loved now tickling me. Despite his height and his strength, he was so gentle, and I only had to stop him when I feared that I was going to pee.19

We rolled about, finally promising a truce. When we stopped laughing, we were lying side by side, taking a moment just to look at each other. I climbed onto his stomach, trusting that my small frame wouldn't be too great a weight on him. I lay there, my head under his chin, just listening to the faint echo of his heartbeat.20

"I love you, Becky." I heard him murmur, his hands gently rubbing my back. Raising my head to look in his eyes, I smiled.21

"I love you too, Russ." He put his finger under my chin, and pulled it up so he could kiss me.22

"Don't ever leave me."23

"I won't. I promise." I squeezed him. 24

"I promise I won't leave you, either." 25

We often had these exchanges, but what he said next made something in me sink, and I didn't know why.26

Staring hard into my eyes, he solemnly said:27

"I mean it, you know."28

"I know. I mean it, too." I replied, a little flustered.29

He didn't say anything after that and, despite wanting to, I didn't press him. I treated it like any other conversation, and consoled myself with his promise. After a moment, he spoke again.30

"You know, sometimes I wish I was a cat, or something like that."31

"Eh? Why?" I asked, at once wondering where he was going. My chest ached weirdly from our last conversation, and I knew that this would be somehow linked.32

"They don't have any responsibilities, you know? They can just come and go whenever they like. And they don't have to worry about school, or any of those crappy things like war or death."33

"Yeah, but they miss out on the good things, too."34

"Like what?" He asked. It took me a moment to think, because his argument actually made sense.35

"All those human experiences that make us 'us'. Like first marriages, second marriages." I joked, expecting a laugh. Without so much as a chuckle, he simply met my eyes and with sincerity that almost broke my heart, he said:36

"I only want one marriage. To you."37

"You mean that?" Despite myself, I stuttered, mentally kicking myself for being cliché. He nodded. "I only want to marry you, too." The ache in my chest intensified as I realised my words had more meaning than I'd realised, but not more meaning than I felt. I wanted to marry him. After five months, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.38

"Do you promise?"39

"I promise." I nodded, tears stinging my eyes though I didn't know why. 40

He rolled me off him to look at me properly. I stared at him, unable even to admire him as I was desperate for him to explain.41

"I think I know what I'm getting you for Christmas."42

"What is it?" I asked, a growing part of me knowing the answer but not wanting to assume. He shook his head firmly.43

"No. I'm not going to say. But I really hope you like it." He went to turn away, I don't know what he was going to do but I stopped him.44

"No. Please, tell me. I think I know what it is." I was shaking, I could feel a small tremor in my stomach that caused my entire body to tremble slightly. Smiling, he cupped my face.45

"A ring." 46

Instantly my arms were around his neck, pulling him tightly into a firm hug. Happiness flooded through me, and I felt him reluctantly return the embrace. Then, a sudden shudder of embarrassment shocked me as it suddenly dawned on me that I could have jumped the gun. He knew I liked wearing rings, and that was maybe all he meant. Dropping him as though he was hot, I shrank away.47

His next words killed the fear, while sparking a new one.48

"Becky, will you marry me?" He stuttered a little, and barely looked at me. His cheeks flushed a pale pink, and his deep voice was small and almost sad. 49

The word escaped me before I'd even properly heard him, but I knew I meant every letter of it.50

"Yes."