"I want to sit on the kitchen counter in my underwear with you at 3am and talk about the universe."

My back hits the door with a thud and all I can do is groan as the red head overwhelms me in the best possible way. My neck is going to have the bruise the size of Texas tomorrow, but I can't find it in me to care when those hands are sliding up my shirt and her leg slips between mine.

"You were so hot up in the booth tonight, baby. I need you. Now." Her hand grips my hip as she rolls hers and fuck, yes please.

We don't make it to the bedroom. We don't even make it past the kitchen. We're lying on the kitchen floor at 3am trying to catch our breath and honestly, tonight is fucking awesome. The only thing that could make it better is…

"Ice cream?"

I laugh. This girl gets me. She always has. I don't know why it still manages to catch me off guard so many years later. I nod my head, grinning, as I lean over to kiss her. We slip our underwear back on and then I grab the ice cream and she grabs two spoons. We plop ourselves down on our little kitchen island and dig in and God, I love these moments the best.

I'm not sure what more I could ask for from the universe than the ability to sit on this counter in my underwear eating ice cream with my favorite person in the world talking about everything and nothing. Our best conversations have always come in the late night hours when everything starts to soften and go fuzzy around the edges. The walls fall a little easier and it's just two people connecting in the simplest of ways.

3am is hopes and dreams. It's whispered vulnerabilities and insecurities. It's passion and friendship and love. It's us at our purest, our strongest, and our weakest. It's the version of each other only the other knows. It's the version of us that only we know.

She talks about her job and how much she loves the light that goes on in the kids' eyes when the music truly touches them. I talk about the album for the up and coming artist I'm working with. We talk about fate and the universe. We talk about what life could have looked like without Titanium in shower stalls, hood night flirtations, or whispered declarations of love. We talk about love and family and fear and scars. We talk about our deepest, darkest secrets because 3 am is sacred. 3 am is our own personal bubble.

Sometimes, we don't talk at all. Sometimes, the silence is it's own conversation. Sometimes, it's just the comfort of loving arms around you. It's as close to perfect as I could have ever imagined for myself. Better, actually.

A feeling of pure contentment washes over me as I realize that all I'll ever truly need is this. This girl and these moments. I don't need the awards, the money, or the fame. I don't even need the success. I just need to know that when 3am rolls around, she's there too-her hand in mine, her head on my shoulder, and her bright eyes smiling back at me. The words are out of my mouth before I even know I've thought them, but it's 3am and everything is safe.

"Marry me."

There's a long moment where we just stare at each other. It's not the most romantic proposal. It's not flashy, there is no ring, and it's totally unplanned. It's not a proposal you write home about by any means.

We are in our underwear. On the counter. Eating ice cream.

"Yes."

Like I said before, tonight is fucking awesome.