“so, do you actually like me?”
you ask suddenly, breaking the silence that was between you and miguel in the kitchen as he prepared pancakes for a late night snack.
“come again?” he say sarcastically, flipping the pancake to the other side.
his back is facing you but you can hear the smirk in his tone.
you huff in response, but repeat yourself, “do you actually like me?”
it’s not like your question was along the same lines as ‘would you love me if i was a worm?’ or any late night silly thoughts, you were actually asking him.
“y/n, amor,” he sighs, “we’ve been together for what? four years? and we’re getting married in three months. of course i actually like you.”
you roll your eyes at his answer — unfortunately for miguel, it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.
“no, dumbass.” you say, and he whips his head around at the name calling, but you don’t pay mind to his dirty look, “do you actually actually like me?”
he scoffs, “i just told you that i did — ”
“no! i mean, do you actually like me? like why do you like me, you know? why are you so dumb?” you say, crossing your arms.
once more, he decides to ignore the name calling, “i think you need to get better at your wording, sweetheart.” he says and you scoff, “answer the question if you still want the wedding to be on.” you threaten and he laughs.
he pushes a pancake on a plate, “well if i had to talk about why i like you, we’re gonna be staying up the whole night.”
“flattering but not satisfying.”
he chuckles as he pushes over the plate of pancakes to you, and sits next to you by the counter.
miguel was never too good at expressing his feelings in words — the best he was at was calling you pet names and bringing you gifts every other day, but talking? nope, not his field of expertise.
“let’s see,” he hums, “i like the way you call my name whenever you want something”
“i like the way you get all flustered whenever i bring you a gift, even if it's something as simple as chocolate. I love the way you always tell me you love me whenever you just wake up, i love the way you kiss my forehead before we go to bed, i love the way you run your fingers through my hair after i’ve had a long day at work and you’re helping me relax — why are you so silent?”
he asks, afraid that he has been doing bad, but when he turns to look at you, you have tears in your eyes.
“i’m gonna cry.” you say, your voice wobbly as you wipe away at your tears and he laughs, holding your hands to stop you, “good tears or bad tears?” he teases.
you sniffle, “good tears.”
“amor.” he chides, and the realization that you two are about to get married in three months, that you’re already engaged to him, that you’re his and that you will always be his, dawns on him.
he smiles and pecks your lips softly, “i love you for the long term.”
you laugh and smile and peck his lips back,
“i love you for the long term too.”
