thinking about how at some point (probably in a not so distant future) Asher calling Sam “gramps” or “grandpa” is gonna be Super Weird to outsiders/unempowered people bc Sam is gonna look younger than the Shaw Pack boys (since he was turned at 29 & they’re getting into their 30’s)
In front of the mirror, on his morning runs, in the shower where the water masked the sound of his voice cracking halfway through the speech. He’d even gone so far as to record himself once—just to hear how it’d sound. Spoiler: terrible.
He’d said things like, “You make me wanna be better,” and “You’re my whole damn world,” and even “I can’t picture forever without you.”
But every time he looked into Babe’s eyes, those warm, knowing eyes that could read him better than he could read himself; every word fell apart before it even reached his lips.
It wasn’t the ring. He had that part handled. Simple, subtle, not flashy, just… right. Something that felt like them.
It was everything else that wasn’t right.
It started over dinner. He’d planned it perfectly; reservations at their favorite spot, the one with the candles that flickered just enough to make Babe’s skin glow. But the moment he reached for his pocket, Babe was telling him about a nightmare they’d had the night before, something about losing him, about reaching out and finding nothing.
He froze.
The ring felt heavier in his pocket.
He couldn’t interrupt that kind of moment. Not with something that suddenly felt selfish.
He told himself, later.
Later, when things felt lighter.
Later turned into the next morning.
He made breakfast: Pancakes shaped like hearts, though he’d never admit that’s what they were supposed to be. Babe teased him, leaning on the counter, sleepy-eyed and beautiful. He could’ve done it then. He almost did.
But Babe was laughing. And Asher thought: What if I ruin this?
What if Babe’s smile faltered? What if they hesitated? What if they didn’t want to say yes, not because they didn’t love him, but because they just weren’t ready?
He swallowed it down with burnt coffee and another round of later.
By the end of the week, Asher was unraveling.
He sat in his car outside their apartment, ring box open in the passenger seat, thumb tracing the edge. He could almost hear this little voice in the back of his head—something gruff and unkind. You think you can keep someone like that forever?
Asher’s jaw clenched. He hated that voice. Hated that it still found a way to crawl into the quiet.
He thought about Babe. How patient they’d been with him. How they never made him feel like the broken thing he sometimes saw in the mirror.
And yet.
What if Babe realized they could do better? Someone who wasn’t haunted by their own reflection? Someone who didn’t wake up in a cold sweat some nights, convinced they’d ruin everything just by breathing too loud?
The thought made him sick.
He closed the box.
That night, Babe noticed.
They always did.
“Asher,” they said softly, sitting next to him on the couch. “You’ve been… somewhere else lately.”
He forced a laugh. “Just work, babe. You know how it gets.”
Babe didn’t buy it. They never did. They leaned closer, eyes searching. “You sure that’s all?”
And there it was—the perfect opening. He could’ve said it. Could’ve pulled the ring from his pocket and told them everything: how much he loved them, how scared he was, how badly he wanted to build something that lasted.
But the words tangled in his throat.
Because what if they said no?
He wasn’t sure he could survive that.
So instead, he smiled, one of those small, brittle smiles that cracked at the edges.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”
Babe didn’t press. They just reached for his hand, fingers curling around his like they always did, steady and sure.
And Asher thought, maybe this was enough.
Maybe it didn’t matter if he ever got the words out. Maybe love didn’t need to be said out loud to be real.
But when Babe fell asleep on his shoulder later, soft breath against his neck, he felt the sting of what he hadn’t done—of what he might never do.
He reached into his pocket, thumb brushed the velvet box, and whispered to the quiet room:
“I almost asked you today.”
His voice trembled, breaking somewhere between hope and heartbreak.
“Almost.”
BONUS:
Babe had been staring at the tiny box for fifteen minutes straight.
It wasn’t even a nice box—one of those plain, black velvet ones that came standard at the jewelry store. But somehow, it felt like it was pulsing in their palm, radiating the kind of pressure that made their stomach twist into knots.
They’d spent weeks picking the ring out. Something simple, sturdy, warm—like him. They wanted to ask him somewhere perfect. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere that felt like them.
Except there was no perfect moment.
Every time they tried to imagine it, something in their chest clenched.
Because what if he didn’t want it?
Sure, Asher said I love you like it was breathing, but lately… he’d been distant. A little quieter. Smiling like it hurt.
And that voice—the one that only came out in the dark parts of their mind—whispered, what if he’s pulling away?
Babe shook their head, muttering under their breath, “Get it together. He loves you. He does.”
Still, their hands were shaking.
They practiced in front of the mirror, just once. “Asher, I—” Their voice cracked. “Nope. Nope, that’s terrible.”
They laughed, but it didn’t sound right. Too tight. Too scared.
They’d done the same thing he had.
Waited for the perfect moment.
And let it slip right by.
They exhaled, pressing their palms to their eyes, whispering into the quiet:
“I almost asked you today.”
And somewhere across the room, Asher was probably thinking the same damn thing.
