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For once, Ros wakes up slowly.
Usually, there’s not as much yawning and eye-rubbing involved for him. One moment he’s asleep- the next moment, he isn’t. Occasionally though, when he gets drunk enough to go into a sleepy stupor, he still feels the aftereffects the next morning.
And of course, that’s the case today as well.
Ros isn’t really one to drink too much. He does sometimes, of course, dragged into casual drinks at the research center and to the pub by Crea. But he doesn’t really like it much, because no matter how sleepy and content he may feel in the moment…
He buries his face in his hands.
The humiliation always burns the next morning.
He hears Alba mumble something beside him and press closer into his side.
With a sigh, Ros brings his hands back down. He’s really quite tempted to kick Alba out of the bed, but he supposes that could wait until Ros has put himself back together a little more.
Alba looks as idiotic as ever, drooling away onto the sheets as an arm squeezes around Ros’ chest. The sight should make Ros want to laugh and sneer, but unfortunately, the only feeling that wells up inside of him is affection.
Right. Perhaps he should consider things in perspective.
Yes, he certainly drank enough last night to go into a happily sleepy stupor. And yes, perhaps he spent the later half of the night glued to Alba’s side, arms squeezing around the other man. Maybe, just maybe, he clung to Alba like a burr as he carried Ros to bed. Some might even claim he continued to snuggle into Alba’s chest as he immediately fell into a deep sleep.
But those were small details in the grand scheme of things.
Ros’ eyes land on the rings neatly placed on the end table, and he has to hold back a groan.
Nothing but small details, considering that he couldn’t stop himself from getting married to Alba.
It was his husband sleeping oh-so-happily next to him now, and they have the rings to prove it. Thin gold wedding bands, with intricate engravings twisting over their lengths. Silver engagement rings with inhumanly beautiful gems, ones Ros knows Alba must’ve made or enhanced with magic. Alba’s ring has a trio of red gems at its head, while Ros’ gems are a light lavender, but they shift in the light in a way Ros has never seen before. Red turning to orange and yellow like a flame, while lavender flows into deep blues.
To be clear though, it most certainly wasn’t the beauty of the rings Alba offered him that made him finally accept Alba’s marriage proposal. Ros has never cared much about jewelry, and that hasn’t changed even with these rings. Alba proposed to him a full forty-seven times, and while he hadn’t started using different rings for each attempt until the end, Ros has still seen and rejected plenty of lovely rings.
(The dozen-or-so other rings sit in a nice display case in their shared bedroom now. Alba looks at it with a stupidly soppy expression in the mornings sometimes.
Ros should’ve really just sold them off or something, but in the end, he was far too weak to throw away the physical evidence of Alba’s devotion.)
No, the reason why Ros finally accepted Alba’s proposal was, well…
Ros sighs.
He loves Alba too. Immensely. Much to his displeasure. If he were ever hit by a spell that did away with his pride, he would spend his days pressed into Alba’s side at all times. His pride is the only thing keeping him together nowadays, his idiotic love tearing apart all of his other walls.
But he had realized that Alba beginning to use different rings for his proposal gave him an excuse. I don’t really want to marry, but I can’t have my personal wallet wasting my money on useless trinkets. Something like that.
His pride hadn’t stood a chance in the face of such a strong excuse. Now, he’s married to Alba Frühling, the man who breaks his ribs more than most people stub their toes.
And he can’t even bring himself to regret it, no matter his embarrassed groaning. He’s happy. He’s so very happy. He’s overjoyed to be a Frühling.
Love, Ros firmly decides, makes people idiots. Including himself.
(...the reminder that he can call himself Ros Frühling now gives him the urge to grab their marriage certificate and smile at it dopily, which further cements his resolve that love has significantly lowered his intelligence levels.)
Alba shifts beside him again- but this time, he yawns loudly, and his eyes flick open a crack. Slowly, he looks up towards Ros, and gives him a sleepy smile.
“G’morning, Ros.” Alba yawns again, his other arm sneaking under Ros’ neck to wrap him in a tight embrace.
Ros doesn’t stop him.
“Good morning, Hero,” Ros says primly.
“No ‘Alba-san’?” asks Alba, sounding a little disappointed.
“I thought it would be prudent to be slightly more polite in a formal event,” Ros says, “It certainly wasn’t meant to be a permanent thing.”
“I thought it was cute though…” Alba pouts. It’s infuriatingly adorable.
“Congratulations on ensuring that I’ll never call you that again, Hero.”
“But…” Alba starts, the whine in his voice already loud and obvious.
“You’re so spoiled,” Ros says with a sneer. “Your husband calls you by a special nickname, and you still want more?”
Just as Ros expects, Alba immediately brightens.
“Right, right.” Alba leans in to peck a kiss against Ros’ lips, and Ros doesn’t stop him. Leaning back a little, he continues- “I appreciate my husband very much. I’m very, very happy with him. My dearest husband. My-”
Ros tries to knee him in the thighs, but it doesn’t go so well with them both lying down. Still, Alba must get the picture, because he obediently changes the subject with a smile.
“Anyways,” Alba says, expression still far too soft. “It’s the first day of our honeymoon. What do you wanna do?”
“Mooch off of the wallet of my husband,” Ros informs him, “and buy up the entire contents of a bakery.”
“That’s fine with me,” hums Alba. “You didn’t get to have enough sweets last night. Eat as much as you want today.”
Ros goes a little stiff.
(He hadn’t expected Alba to notice.)
“Aha, yes, that catering company…” Ros sneers. “Completely useless. Who would’ve thought their snacks and appetizers would be so lacking?”
“It’s not right to blame the poor staff for doing what you asked them to do, Ros.”
Gah.
“...When did you notice?” grumbles Ros.
“After all the photos,” says Alba, “When we were snacking at the tables. I mean, I’m not so dumb that I’d miss that everything there was my favourite. And that my beloved husband’s favourites were mis- ow!”
Scowling, Ros pinches Alba’s arm to shut him up.
“What’s so wrong with calling my beloved husband my beloved hus- ow!”
Ros pinches him again, stronger this time. Tears well up in the corner of Alba’s eyes, and he finally shuts up.
“Don’t be so embarrassing,” orders Ros.
“But there’s no one else around.” Alba’s eyes are mournful. “Can’t I dote on you when we’re alone at least?”
“I let you do plenty already when we’re alone,” Ros says primly. Case in point- the fact that he still hasn’t shaken off Alba’s arms squeezing around him.
“And I’m super happy about that,” says Alba, “But I also wanna call the husband I love very much my husband. In public too.” He pauses. “I mean, we did just get married in front of a couple dozen people. The cat’s kinda out of the bag.”
“...I know,” grumbles Ros.
“So what’s the problem?” Alba’s smile is bright. “I love you, now we’re married- and that’s why you’re my dearest, beloved husband.”
Ros makes an unintelligible noise. “I will never understand how you can say such utterly- ridiculous things without dying of humiliation.”
“Because I want to make you happy. And I want you to know that you make me happy.”
“Disgusting.” Ros’ voice is curt.
“Says the person who admitted to falling in love with me at first sight…” Alba mumbles, and Ros can’t stop himself from flushing.
“It-it wasn’t ‘love’ at first sight,” Ros corrects, “I thought you were a little interesting. That’s all.”
That was entirely true. Technically. It was just also true that it was pretty rare for Ros to like someone so much so quickly after they met.
(In the end, even Ros has to admit it really was no shock how little time it took for him to really start falling for his pathetic hero.)
“You said you ‘fell half in love with me at first sight’,” Alba says, obnoxiously cheery. “And when I was planning to use blue roses to accent all the asters, you insisted on purple instead. I looked up their flower meaning, you know. Love at first si-”
Ros, panicked, cuts Alba off with a kiss. Alba doesn’t seem to mind- he shifts himself onto Ros and dips deeper, his tongue easily drawing Ros’ mouth open. A hand slips into his hair to push him closer still to Alba.
Ugh. Stupid, opportunistic hero.
After far too long, Alba draws back for air, and Ros finds himself panting a little.
Alba’s eyes are half-lidded.
“You know…” he says, drawing a hand down Ros’ bare chest. “Since you were pretty drunk last night, and we were both tired… we never did do that thing, huh?”
“That thing?”
“You know, um. What a lot of people do on their wedding night.” Alba coughs.
He looks terribly embarrassed now, and there’s nothing better for Ros’ confidence than Alba’s embarrassment.
“Pervert,” Ros says, tone mocking.
“Shut up,” Alba whines.
“You can spew sappy nonsense without blinking an eye, but you clam up when talking about something we’ve done countless times before?” Ros has to snort.
“It just feels different now, okay! Now that we’re married!”
“Yes, yes, whatever you say.” Ros wraps his arms around Alba’s neck, dragging him back down to peck a kiss against his nose. “Well, very well then.”
“Very… very well?”
“Let’s do it then, if you want to that much,” Ros says sweetly. “Unless you’ve suddenly lost your nerve?”
“N-no.” Alba visibly swallows, looking like he’s putting himself back together. Looking more confident now, he continues- “No. I still want to.”
And much to Ros’ pleasure, Alba leans down once more.