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Jack woke up to the smell of pancakes, and blinked in confusion. Pitch was never normally up this early, let alone making pancakes. They didn't really fit in with his healthy-eating regime, much to Jack's annoyance. So why would Pitch be making them now? He hadn't broken anything, so he must want something. Jack turned over, forcing down the small mountain of duvet and reached for his phone. Friday, 8:36, February 14th.
Fuck. It was Valentine's day.
Falling in love with someone as strange as Pitch was, at times, very interesting indeed. If last year's 'celebration' was anything to go by, today was going to be very eventful. They didn't talk about what happened last year. (They haven't been to the duck-pond since.) Jack winced at the memory and quickly pushed it out of his head, climbing out of bed and grabbing his pyjamas. He padded downstairs and looked into the kitchen quietly, watching as Pitch flew around, making zero mess. Jack could only dream of the day he would master that skill.
"Watcha cooking?"
Pitch jumped and spun around, grabbing the side of the counter and pulling a strange smile. Something wasn't right. Pitch was never this nervous.
"Cooking. Pancakes. Here, take a seat. Tea?" Jack was pushed into a chair and caught the mug that was almost thrown at him, before Pitch danced off and went back to the stove. Sipping at his tea, Jack silently accepted whatever fate Pitch had planned. It couldn't be that bad. Right?
Pitch walked to the breakfast bar where Jack was sitting, and placed a large plate of pancakes down. Taking a banana for himself, he pushed the carrier of sauces towards Jack and motioned for him to start.
"You like pancakes, right? I'm sure you do. You said you did. I can cook something else if-"
Jack leant over and kissed Pitch, stopping him mid-sentence. Jack sat back in his stool and smiled.
"Pitch, they're perfect. You're perfect. I honestly do not deserve you, you let me lie in, you cook me amazing food, you put up with my crap. This is so much better than what I had planned for today. Oh, which reminds me - Are we doing anything tonight? I... may or may not have booked us a table at North's in town..."
Pitch smiled back and reached for Jack's hand, squeezing softly.
"That sounds brilliant. I was... hoping that maybe... we could do something this afternoon that urm..."
Pitch took a deep breath and reached for something underneath the bar. The hand holding Jack's twitched slightly, stilling as Jack slipped their fingers together and held tighter. Pitch had gone pale, almost as light as Jack, as he shifted on his seat.
"I... Fuck... Do I... Okay. Right. Jack. I. No. Wait. Shut up. Stay there."
Pitch stood up suddenly and walked round the bar to where Jack was sat. Pulling Jack from his seat, Pitch dropped to one knee and showed him the small envelope that he held. It was white and had "Dr Kozmotis Pitchiner" hand-written on the front. Jack's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. Pitch was never this nervous. His train of thought was disrupted as Pitch started again, his voice stronger.
"Jack. I have loved you since the day I threw tea on you. Accidentally. I didn't mean to actually throw it on you, you were just in the way. But I have loved you since then. And you put up with me. You put up with my moods, and when I hate everything, and when I have tried to injure you, no matter how much you deserved it."
Pitch took a deep breath and looked down. Maybe that wasn't the best thing to say when proposing to one's boyfriend.
"For a man with a PhD who talks to people for a living, you're really not very good with words this morning..."
Pitch looked up at Jack, and smiled as he stood up. He gave the envelope to Jack, and laced his fingers through Jack's hair, then kissed him deeply. Pitch didn't care any more. The formalities didn't matter, all that mattered was Jack. He pulled away, letting Jack read oven the envelope, agonisingly slowly.
"This letter... to confirm... Friday fourteenth... Two thirty... Registry... Pitch! Yes! You planned this like two months ago and you tell me today?! Pitch, you are a sneaky bastard and I love you and I will marry you and I love you so much and you are just a complete and utter bastard!"
The envelope was discarded amongst the uneaten pancakes as Pitch picked Jack up and spun him around.
They hadn't even made it upstairs properly before clothing covered every available surface; Jack's shirt hanging from the bannisters and one of Pitch's socks landing in the flower pot (it was a month before they noticed the orchid didn't look quite right).
---
"Are you sure you want to do this, Jack? We honestly don't have to, if you're uncomfortable I-"
"No, Pitch, No. We're doing this. I'm just - Nervous. I know it's just queuing up and signing a bit of paper but it's like - It's us, is marriage, we're getting married. We're getting married!"
Pitch smiled and wrapped his arms around Jack, pressing his face into Jack's white hair as he finished the cigarette with shaking hands. He sighed and stubbed the end out, dropping it in the small box on the side of the registry office wall. Looking up at Pitch and taking his hand, he nodded softly.
"Let's do this."