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For the entirety of their relationship, Nolan and Pierre-Luc had been writing snail mail letters back and forth with each other. There was something about the anticipation of receiving a letter in the post that appealed to them more than receiving texts or emails. They were drawn to seeing the handwritten sentiments and cherished each letter like they were pieces of art from the Louvre.
When a scheduled letter day came and went with no letter, Nolan was a little concerned. Pierre-Luc had always been punctual with writing and sending his letters. He had never missed a day without first informing Nolan through another means of communication that the letter would be arriving late. There was a part of Nolan that wanted to call his boyfriend and ask if something was the matter but the logical part of him told himself that the letter probably got lost in the post. The post office was extra busy during the pandemic with all of the online shipping orders; Nolan knew the letter must’ve got lost in the shuffle and would likely arrive a few days late because of it. There was no need for him to worry.
When a whole week passed with no letter, Nolan was beginning to wonder if Pierre-Luc had sent a letter at all. As he paced his apartment worry settled into his stomach. Someone buzzed the building’s intercom to draw him out of his worry. He found that odd because he hadn’t remembered inviting anyone over or ordering anything. A thought quickly crossed Nolan’s mind. It was probably the postman with his letter from Pierre-Luc. He rushed to the intercom and punched in his access code.
Nolan didn’t realize that he had forgotten to check to see who was on the other end until a knock echoed through the apartment. He quickly rushed to the door and opened it, once again neglecting to see who was on the other side. When he saw who was standing in the doorway, he had to do a double-take for he was certain that he was seeing things.
“Bonjour, ma douce pêche,” Pierre-Luc said, a smile on his face. He handed Nolan the bouquet of lilies that he had been holding as Nolan stepped aside to let his boyfriend into the apartment. “Do you like your snail mail?”
Nolan dropped the lilies on the foyer table and threw himself into Pierre-Luc’s arms. Pierre-Luc chuckled as he wrapped his boyfriend in a hug, pressing a kiss to Nolan’s cheek. Nolan sobbed into Pierre-Luc’s chest, vibrating against him as his boyfriend rubbed his back soothingly. He was mumbling soft French endearments into Nolan’s scalp the entire time and it was doing wonders in helping Nolan stay calm.
When Nolan pulled back, Pierre-Luc wiped his tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He pressed a soft kiss to Nolan’s forehead and rubbed his thumbs soothingly across Nolan’s cheeks. Nolan leaned into the touch, humming softly. Pierre-Luc smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead.
“How about you check the ribbon on the bouquet?” Pierre-Luc said, pointing to the foyer table.
Nolan nodded as he reached for the bouquet. When he looked at the ribbon, he nearly dropped the flowers. Staring back at Nolan was a simple engagement ring. Looking back at Pierre-Luc, he noticed that he was down on one knee and holding his hand out. Nolan disentangled the ring from the ribbon and handed it to him. He smiled and held the ring towards his boyfriend.
“Ma douce pêche, veux-tu m'épouser, s'il te plaît?“ Pierre-Luc bit his lip and raised a tentative eyebrow as he looked at Nolan.
“Of course. Yeah, man. Yes. Fuck, bud. I will. Always,” Nolan babbled, holding his hand out for Pierre-Luc to place the ring on his finger.
Pierre-Luc snorted and smiled as he slipped the ring onto his fiance’s finger before standing up. He grabbed Nolan’s face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. As they kissed, Nolan felt his entire world coming together. Pierre-Luc had proposed to him. He was getting married to Pierre-Luc. Nolan suddenly pulled back from the kiss because it was at that moment that he realized something.
“You’re in Winnipeg…” Nolan started, blinking a couple of times. “Columbus doesn’t play against us this season.”
“Yeah,” Pierre-Luc nodded, smiling widely.
“Holy fuck. Holy fuck, Pierre-Luc . You got traded to the Jets!”
"Je m'appelle Pierre-Luc Dubois. Je suis le numéro treize et un centre-homme pour le Winnipeg Jets de Ligue de Nationale l'Hockey.”
Nolan grabbed Pierre-Luc’s face and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Pierre-Luc matched his fiance’s pace, gripping his shoulders to steady himself. When they pulled back, they were panting and both had swollen lips. Pierre-Luc kissed Nolan’s forehead and squeezed his shoulders. Nolan smiled and dropped his head against Pierre-Luc’s chest.
“I’m so glad you’re here, mon petit papillon,” Nolan said, voice muffled by Pierre-Luc’s chest.
“I’m glad I’m here too, ma douce pêche,” Pierre-Luc replied, running his hands along Nolan’s scalp. “I get to close the book on the villainous chapter of my life and open to the chapter where the protagonist and his prince live happily ever after. That makes all the time with Torts completely worth it. Because you were worth waiting for, ma douce pêche. And you always have been.”