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The next time Pran comes back from Singapore, he brings one more bottle of whisky.
"For us?" Pat's already covering his hand with a squeeze and leaning in too close to sniff him, and Pran has to duck and wave him off.
"Pat! We're in the airport parking lot!"
Pat smiles at him, utterly unrepentant. "You smell so good, baby."
Pran has to roll his eyes a little. He shoulder bumps Pat on the way to put away the bags of whisky in the trunk. "And no, the extra bottle is for Ink. Paa asked nicely."
Pat sighs. "She already has Ink wrapped around her fingers. Why does she get you, too?"
"Aww, puppy. Jealous?" Pran cups Pat's face with a hand and wishes they were in private. "Don't worry. I got you something too."
Pat smirks at him. "Is it you?"
Pran smirks back at him and doesn't bother answering. "Let's go home."
*
They don't get to their respective homes until a few hours later, just in time for dinner.
*
Pran washes and dries the last dish and flexes his hands five times before he can bring himself to go into the living room and face his parents. "Mom, dad."
His parents turn to look at him, smiles still on their faces. Dinner was good, so peaceful. His parents are immensely proud and happy to have him back in this country for good. Too bad Pran's about to ruin the mood.
"I have something I need to tell you."
Pran dad's eyes widen a smidge and he turns to look at his wife. Pran's mom, however, is almost eerily calm. "Yes, Pran. What is it? Come here, sit." She shifts to the left, making a space for him, and pats the sofa.
Right. Like Pran isn't already nervous enough. He looks to his dad and his dad nods at him, encouraging.
Still, Pran cannot get his feet to move.
"Is this about your boyfriend Pat?"
Pran's head whips up so fast as his mouth drops open. He stares at his mom but she's still smiling gently at him, not a trace of disapproval on her, looking almost amused. Which, what?
Pran moves his mouth and no sound comes out.
"We've heard you sneaking around upstairs for years."
Oh. Oh.
"Pran, breathe." His dad prompts.
"I-" Pran forces himself to take a deep breath. He might as well get it all out in the open now when it looks like his parents are in an exceptionally good mood. "I got Pat a ring. I'm going to ask his parents for his hand."
His parents share a look and Pran has no idea what they just said to each other without saying a word. His dad is the one that speaks this time. "Pran, I think Pat's-"
His mom silences him with a firm head shake. "When are you going to ask?"
"Now. After I grab my guitar. Because I'm proposing to Pat afterwards." Incredibly it's this part that makes him the most nervous. Then again, it's been a while since he's performed in front of people. And it's been never since he's performed in front of Pat's family.
"I'll get your guitar for you." His dad gets up and pats his back.
Pran's mom pats the space beside her again, and this time Pran goes to her. "Mom."
"Pran." His mom hugs him, making him feel like he's five again, with a fever that refuses to recede.
I love you - the words get stuck in his throat. I love him - these words get stuck too.
"Your dad and I only have you," his mom soothes a hand over his hair. "With Pat, we'll have two sons."
Unbidden, his eyes well up. Pran blinks, getting his lashes wet. "Mom," he says, feeling choked up, and hugs her harder. "I'm still your favorite, right?"
His mom laughs. "Always."
That's how his dad finds them, hugging, laughing and crying, a mess.
*
Pran's surprised when Ink's the one who lets him into the house.
"Hi daughter-in-law," he teases her. But really, with Ink and Paa engaged, she is pretty much already the daughter-in-law.
"Hi son-in-law," she teases back and winks.
"Shh!" Pran just manages to shush at her before Pat's rushing down the hallway to hug him.
"Pran!" Pat squeezes both him and the guitar until Pran has to fight him off. They have just-
"P'Pran!" Paa piles on him and Pran gives up, giving into the hug pile. He's pretty sure Ink joined in too at some point. It feels hot, but it's a nice distraction. He almost forgets what he's over here to do.
Until Paa notices his guitar and asks, "P'Pran, are you going to play us a song?"
"Ah," he licks his lips. "I hope so. Are your parents here? May I talk to them?"
Pat stares at him. "Pran?"
"Alone."
*
Alone in the living room facing Pat's parents is even more unnerving than Pran thought it would be. He starts with the familiar -- a greeting, a respectful wai.
"Please, sit. Have some tea. Fruits?" Pat's mom settles a plate of mangoes in front of him.
Pran nods and sits. "Thank you," he says and makes no move towards the drink or the fruit, too nervous.
Pat's father hasn't said a word yet, and though he looks older, calmer, Pran doesn't know how he would react. There was a reason he and Pat chose to hide their relationship all those years ago from their parents. Because their parents were not ready to accept them. They may never be.
And just because Pran lucked out with his parents doesn't mean a thing about Pat's parents.
Still, Pat's mom is openly friendly with him, asking about his time in Singapore, if he was back for good.
"Yes, I'm planning to start my own interior design company."
"How? Are you taking out a loan? Do you have investors?" Pat's dad speaks up for the first time.
And Pran's glad that he's been meticulous about his financial planning. "No loans, sir." Pran explains about his nest egg from his savings and investments thus far. He explains in such details that he sees Pat's mom's eyes glaze over.
Pat's dad's hanging on his every word though. "What about ads? How will you get the word out about your new company?"
Pran explains about that too, how he's already lined up social media accounts ready to go. "My dad's store will also advertise it."
Pat's dad makes a grunt of a noise. "Bring your flyers and coupons to my store too."
Pran blinks at him. Did he just-? "Yes, sir."
Just then, both siblings burst into the living room, both clamoring for attention at once.
"Papa, P'Pran saved me from drowning when I was-"
"Papa! Pran tutored me in English in high school. I would have failed if it wasn't for him-"
"Mama, P'Pran cooked for me in college. And for Pat! I ate so well because of him-"
"Mama, Papa, I love him. I will always love him."
Pran gapes at them, afraid, so afraid to turn and look at Pat's parents. Pat's crying, a single tear rolling down his cheek and Pran can't help reaching out, wiping that tear for him.
"Pat."
With a heavy sigh, Pat's dad speaks up first. "We already knew you were dating. So, Pat, Paa, you don't need to make up stories."
"I didn't make them up! It's true. Hia froze and I would have drowned if it wasn't for P'Pran! Why do you think I've always liked him? I owe him my life, papa!"
Pran doesn't know who's the most surprised when Ink kisses his cheek, but Pran thinks he's in contention.
"Thank you for saving my fiancée, Pran."
"Stop kissing my boyfriend, Ink!"
"Um, about that-" Pran cuts in before the night unravels even further. "I actually came to ask for Pat's hand. Sir, ma'am, I can't live without Pat in my life. And I would like to ask for your blessing for our marriage."
*
"Pat," Pran tries to dodge as his fiancé plants kisses all over his face. "Pat, stop! We're in the driveway of your parents' house! Pat!"
*
He doesn't stop him though once they get home.
"I can't believe you already asked my parents!" Pran kisses him back. "No wonder they were so cagey about it. When did you even- ah, right there, fuck."
"Yeah, but you wrote me a song, Pran." Pat grins at him. "So, I win."
"Yeah, and what are you going to do to me, winner?"
"Hmm," Pat smirks against his lips. "I'm sure I can think of something. I have the rest of our lives."
"Yeah, no, Pat. If you don't do something to me in the next five minute, this engagement's-"
Pat shushes him with a kiss, but Pran's not mad about it. He's not mad at all.