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The words hang between them. Untouchable, floating there. Snafu had never uttered those three words to anyone before that wasn’t immediate family. They feel unfamiliar on his tongue and stumble on their way out of his mouth. But he doesn’t regret them, not one bit. Not when he knows what he feels in his heart is real.
Sledge responds almost too quickly, the words desperate to escape his mouth. He’s been hiding these three words for months, not wanting to speak too soon. But when he hears them spoken to him, he lets himself breathe. He knows he can say it back. And he does, without a moment of hesitation. He utters the words that he’s been holding onto.
And there’s a blush shared. They smile at each other, hearts too full for any more words to escape them. In that moment, there are only three words that matter. They’re the words they’ll repeat to each other in moments of stress, comfort and happiness. The words that’ll ground them and remind them of why they’re breathing. The words that will still cause the other to blush when they’re spoken unexpectedly.
-
They’ve waited for this for a while. There was always hesitation when it came to meeting Sledge’s friends, Snafu insisted on waiting a while. And Sledge didn’t mind the wait. It was all building up to tonight, when his two worlds would collide.
The bar is full of booming voices and almost immediately they’re being called over by a table at the back. Snafu can place a few of the faces with names but not all of them stick and they’re all looking at him smiling and the panic sets in.
But then Sledge speaks. He’s introduced him as his boyfriend. He’s never been this to anyone before but Snafu likes the way it rolls off Sledge’s tongue. There’s a heat warming up his cheeks as he suddenly finds his shoes very interesting, trying not to look at the love threatening to spill from Sledge’s eyes. The slight panic from the moment before vanishes as Sledge grabs his hand.
-
The door swings open and Sledge secretly wishes it was an open door to Hell instead. There’s no way to explain their way out of this, although they don’t really need to. Their position is less than ideal.
Babe runs from the room, slamming the door behind him and swearing under his breath as he complains about what he just saw. But Snafu is laughing and the melody of his laugh draws one out of Sledge. He rolls over and laughs heavily into Sledge’s shoulder, the warmth of his body drowning out any embarrassment previously felt.
Snafu looks up at his lover, a grin still on his lips. He sees the slight rose on his pale skin but there’s a smile pulling at his lips that would put the stars to shame. The slight tinting of his cheeks makes him look stunning, Snafu thinks. He feels Sledge’s eyes on him, his soft eyelashes the only thing between them. He’d spend forever looking at those eyes.
-
They’re walking out of the store together. Snafu was carrying most of the groceries as they head for their car, tonight was their first night in their new apartment together and he insisted on cooking. Said it was good luck or something. The sunlight was playing hide and seek with the clouds but that didn’t dampen either of their spirits.
Sledge’s hand starts to itch a little, but instead of paying attention to the slightly annoying twitch, he loops his fingers through Snafu’s free hand. He can feel the callouses that are scattered about his lover’s hand. Working hands. He knows these hands like he knows his own, every curve, every vein, every bump.
Snafu looks back at Sledge and feels a slight blush rising to his cheeks. They weren’t usually the people to engage in PDA, hand holding was usually an occasion saved for soft moments. Moments like this. He squeezes his hand as a sign of affection, directing his attention to the skyline as he grins. The heat had moved across his face, a pleasant shade of red and pink exploding across his face. He thinks this is the best kind of love. Soft and honest.
-
Snafu is making a speech and Sledge is surprised by the raw beauty of the words coming from his lovers mouth. Notable works of Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare pale in comparison to Snafu’s speech. Poets dream of writing such things, he thinks. And he’s the muse for all of it, something he can’t believe. All the beautiful words are aimed at him. Only him.
He almost forgets about the other people in the room until he hears their applause at the end of the speech. He’s grounded again for a minute by the look in Sledge’s eyes and the suit he’s adorned, unshed tears threatening to spill. He catches a glimpse at the silver rings being handed to them. This is the moment he’s waited an eternity for.
The metal is cold against his skin, the message behind the rings sending a warming blush up his neck and to his face. He knows his freckles will be unmissable in the photos when they look back at this moment, decades later. But for now, he doesn’t care. Nothing else matters apart from the man in front of him who he’s promised himself to, blushing at the altar and everything before that. He also knows that Snafu thinks his freckles are cute, so it’s really a win win