by Jerry Cole
Steve winced, hating it when Gregory called Bobby that almost as much as Bobby hated being called it. At least in the privacy of their bedrooms they could be Steve and Bobby without the expectations.
The conversation with Gregory played on his mind as he helped finalize the preparations for the coronation. He wasn’t actually on the palace staff, but Gregory had been asking for his input more and more, though he retained his important questions for Jamie, who had taken to work around the palace with gusto. Gregory’s quip about Jamie being a publicist had apparently been taken to heart, and Jamie seemed only too happy with his new role.
Helena and Noah had also taken up posts around the palace, which gave them the opportunity to boss Steve around, something he was sure wasn’t actually in their job descriptions. Sam was at the palace often, though he started counselling with the VA, and Bobby had asked for his help on making sure veterans were cared for in regard to mental and physical health.
Steve was proud of his family, including his mother, who often sent care packages to the palace that gave the staff a headache trying to sort out, but which Bobby looked forward to every weekend.
Steve’s life had changed dramatically, but he felt stable and happy for the first time in a long while. His show had been a hit with everyone—except Louis and a few of his advisors—and even with the mess their relationship had caused in the press and amongst the royal circles, Bobby and Steve had stood strong, and Steve could say with certainty their fights would never lead to the same destructive end as to cause them to break up again.
Which put him right back in his rooms that evening, pacing the length of the sitting room floor, and trying to formulate a way of making forever more permanent.
“I hate politics,” Bobby said, which was ironic given the life he’d walked into, but Steve was too distracted to mention it. “Steve?”
“Marry me,” Steve said, and immediately shut his mouth so abruptly it made an audible clack. “I mean—”
That had not been what he’d wanted to say. Bobby was staring at him, halfway through tugging off his jacket, mouth open and eyes wide. Steve wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t make his mouth work. Bobby’s jacket fell to the floor in a heap, and he took a step toward Steve then froze.
“Steve,” he started.
“I know you probably can’t,” Steve said, feeling the hurt and shame pool in his stomach. “It was just something Gregory said, and I thought—”
Bobby’s hand pressed to Steve’s mouth and Steve could only stare back, panic and hope warring in his chest. “You’ve been talking to Gregory?”
Prying Bobby’s hand away from his mouth, Steve nodded. “He said I should ask if I meant forever seriously.”
“And do you?”
“I just asked you to marry me,” Steve pointed out.
Bobby swallowed, nodding his head almost to himself. “Of course you did. Sorry, I.” He paused, blinked, and then started to grin. “You’d be a prince.”
“I’m aware,” Steve said, without the venom he was sure should have been there. But staring at Bobby, he could figure out why it wasn’t. “I wanna marry you no matter what that makes me.”
“All right,” Bobby said, breathless.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Bobby said, and he wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, dragging him down for a kiss. “Yes, Steve, I’ll marry you.”
In a few days Bobby would be grand prince, and their engagement would be announced alongside the coronation. Steve would be a prince, suffer through their friends giving them both shit and having his mother intent on marrying them sooner than made Steve comfortable.
That was later.
Steve had time before then, time that he was determined to show Bobby just how much he loved him, just how much forever would mean to them both.
