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“Sebastian.”
They start at Hannah’s sudden presence in their lab, looking up to find her running an agitated hand through her hair.
“I don’t know how to propose.”
He blinks. “What?”
“To Tammy, I don’t know how I’m supposed to propose!”
Dumbfounded, he can only stare at her.
Tammy is proposing, she has to already know Tammy is proposing, right? They have to have talked about this.
But by the way Hannah is pacing the length of his lab, it’s clear they haven’t.
Resisting the urge to bang their head against their desk, they suggest, “Just… ask her if she wants to marry you?”
She stops her pacing at that, spinning to face him and planting one hand on her hip while the other waves restlessly in the air.
“Yes but when? And how? Do I do a speech? Do I plan a nice evening? Do I just… shove the ring on her hand and hope for the best?!”
“Uh, maybe not that last one,” he advises, amused, but at the expression on her face he quickly sobers, standing and walking towards her, “look, Hannah, breathe.”
At their direction, she does and he places a hand on her shoulder.
“The timing will come to you, you don’t have to plan anything big. Sometimes the most romantic moments are those small, quiet domestic ones, right?”
“Right,” she agrees, quietly.
“Okay then. You got this!” he enthuses, “she’s gonna love it no matter what. Because it’s you and I don’t know if you know this, but Tammy loves you. Like she’s really, really into you, it’s nauseating actually.”
She rolls her eyes fondly at his deadpan mockery, “Shut up.”
“Hey, you came into my lab!” they protest playfully, grabbing their tablet, “and, I’m assuming you came in for a reason other than near hyperventilation?”
“Uh, yes,” she takes a breath, “Pride wanted to know if there were any results from the prints?”
Sensing she’s still not quite settled, he fixes her with a serious expression, “Hey. It’s going to be perfect no matter what you do, I promise.”
“You alright, T?” they check carefully, “you’ve been very quiet.”
“Yeah, well, I’m stressed,” she snaps and he automatically holds up his hands in surrender.
“Woah, okay!” they placate, eyes wide, “why?”
“Because I booked a nice restaurant and I found a spot for us to watch the sunset and it’s all super romantic and what if she hates it?”
She drums her hands agitatedly against the steering wheel while he tries to work out what the hell she’s talking about.
“For… the proposal?” he asks, with a sinking feeling.
“Yes!”
“Okay! Same page now, you’re stressing about the proposal. Well, you know that she’s going to love it no matter what, right?” they reason, “even if it was the worst proposal in the history of proposals, she’d say yes because it meant she got to be engaged to you.”
He’s getting this really intense sense of déjà vu.
Amused, she replies, “That was somehow encouraging, depressing and nauseating all at the same time.”
“Thank you,” he bows as best as he can sitting in a car, “I try.”
She pulls to a stop outside their house but instead of climbing out, he turns to her, “Look, T, I don’t think this is something that can be forced, okay? You’ll have an amazing time because all the time you spend together is amazing, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Present company excepted.”
They pretend to toss their hair and she snorts; they’ve known each other for too long now for her to be able to hide her amusement from him.
Grinning, he pushes her shoulder. “The night might not go perfectly as you plan it to, in fact it probably won’t-“ it definitely won’t if they both pull out a ring at the same time- “but it will be perfect in its own way, because it’ll be yours. Right?”
“Right,” she smiles gently, “thanks, baby.”
“Anytime. Now,” they gesture vaguely, “go spend time with your girlfriend while you can still call her that. My Xbox is calling my name.”
He needs it after dealing with these two idiots.
As they clamber out of the car, she calls, “There’s that leftover pasta in the fridge!”
He’s only just getting to settle down to his game when he hears the sound of keys in the door.
Thinking it’s Tammy having forgotten something, they go to investigate, only to see Naomi pushing the door shut behind her, walking straight past them and flopping face down onto the couch.
Cautiously, he walks over to her and clears his throat.
“Hey, Uncle Sebby,” she responds, voice muffled by the cushions.
“Hey, pting,” they greet, concerned, “everything alright?”
“Urgh,” she groans dramatically, finally sitting up, “I had to get away from them.”
Reassured, he snorts, “Your moms? They being nauseating again?”
It wouldn’t be the first time Naomi has decided being at his house is better than being in the same room (or even house) as her moms.
“If it was just that I could hide in my room. Nope, they’re being idiots in love-” she rolls her eyes and they barely hold back a chuckle- “both ramping each other up with anxiety over proposals that are going to be beautiful and romantic and chaotic as all fuck.”
Their laugh escapes at that and they pat her sympathetically on the shoulder, understanding her plight after his identical conversations today. And many conversations in the last few weeks.
”I have a test tomorrow, can I hide here for a bit?” she begs.
“Sure,” he agrees easily, “I picked up a new tub of mint choc chip earlier, it’s in the usual draw,” raising their eyebrows, they enthuse, “and I picked up Killing With Kindness 4 earlier as well!”
“Ooh, with the dragon cannon update?” Naomi’s face lights up and she beseeches, “can I watch?”
“Only if you get some studying done first!”
She groans dramatically at his stipulation, flopping back into the cushions, face down, “Stop using logic against me.”
Chuckling, they shake their head and promise, “I won’t start without you.”
He’s been waiting all week to play this game. It’s a good job he loves Naomi. And the pair of disastrous queer dumbasses they call their best friends.