Tiger & Bunny Fic - Proposal

[mad_madam_m]

A Tumblr anon asked for a "drabble" of a Tiger & Bunny proposal, and unsurprisingly, I wrote way more than a proposal. Originally posted to Tumblr here.

Hello, who do you think would propose between Kotetsu and Barnaby and how would they do it? If you could write a drabble, that would be amazing, thanks~<3

I think the closest to my actual headcanon for them is mentioned at the beginning of “Platonic” (that is, Barnaby had a big proposal planned out and Kotetsu just spontaneously asked one morning while he was half-asleep; Barnaby got ticked about it and still went through with his own proposal and now they argue about which one counts), although it occurs to me now that the accidental proposal in It Could Be Yours is also high on my list of ways I think it would happen. But what the hell, let’s do another one for these two.A big thanks to @cobrilee for talking through ideas with me. This…is not exactly what you suggested, but that suggestion did help knock something loose! XD
Also, since this prompt came at the perfect time for fluffbingo, this fic’s going to fill the Love and Romance squares on my bingo card.


“I can’t believe Agnes wants me to propose to you on live TV,” Kotetsu muttered.

Barnaby shrugged. “She has a point. People have been following our partnership since we met. It’s not surprising she’d want to air it when we take it to the next level.”

Kotetsu continued to grumble. “It’s a marriage proposal. It’s not supposed to be for ratings.”

Barnaby reached out and took his hand, and Kotetsu threaded their fingers together and squeezed, although the frown on his face didn’t relax a bit.

It had been a delicate balance since they’d started dating, giving Agnes what she wanted for the show and the ratings while still maintaining some semblance of privacy. Barnaby didn’t mind elements of their private lives being public—it was part of the job, after all—but Kotetsu was still stubbornly old-fashioned about keeping his two identities separate, even though most of the city knew who he was now. It was stressful at times, but overall they’d managed to make it work.

So far, they’d only discussed taking it a step further hypothetically—Barnaby hadn’t even been sure if Kotetsu wanted to get married again—but Agnes had found out somehow, and now she was eager to get them to take that step while the cameras were
rolling.

Kotetsu’s initial response had been a much more colorful version of “absolutely not,” which had slowly migrated around to a “we’ll talk about it,” and Barnaby was pretty sure the only reason he’d relented at all had been because Barnaby had been willing to consider the idea. And he was, to an extent.

But Kotetsu had a point. A proposal was supposed to be about them.

Barnaby pressed the up button for the elevator.

Kotetsu raised his eyebrows. “You know, the parking garage is down.“ 

"I want some air before we head home,” Barnaby said. “Just for a few minutes.”

“We can stop at a park.”

“The roof is closer.”

Kotetsu rolled his eyes and groaned, but followed Barnaby into the elevator. “Do you just want to be up high, Bunny-chan?”

“The roof has a nice view,” Barnaby pointed out. “I thought you might appreciate it. Besides, like you said, we need to talk.”

Kotetsu groaned again. “We don’t have to talk right now.”

Barnaby shrugged and rubbed his thumb along Kotetsu’s hand. “We might as well. You don’t want to propose on television.”

Kotetsu sighed and took off his hat, scratching his hair with his knuckles. “Eh. Not really.”

“How would you want to do it?” Barnaby asked.

“Something private. Special. Meaningful, you know?” Kotetsu gestured between the two of them. “A good proposal is supposed to be romantic. Ratings aren’t romantic. There’s no heart to that.”

Barnaby’s lips twitched up—Kotetsu was hopeless—and he fought to flatten them again. “Some people like public proposals.”

“Then those people can have them,” Kotetsu said. “And maybe I didn’t want to do the asking this time. It’s stressful!”

“Wait.” Barnaby turned to him. “You want me to ask you?”

Kotetsu shoved his hat back on and didn’t meet Barnaby’s eyes. “It might be nice. It’s kind of rude that Agnes assumed I’d be the one asking.”

Barnaby was not going to laugh, but he was fighting a smile.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Barnaby stepped into the hallway, and for the first time since they’d left Agnes’s office, his stomach twisted with nerves. Kotetsu strode beside him, apparently oblivious, idly tracing a circle on Barnaby’s
hand with his thumb.

“If I were going to ask you, I wouldn’t do it in front of the cameras,” Barnaby said, deliberately casual. 

“You wouldn’t?" 

"You just spent the past several minutes complaining about doing it publicly, so no, I wouldn’t. I’d do it privately first. That way, whatever we have to do for the cameras is just for the cameras.”

Kotetsu snorted. “A regular proposal and a hero proposal?”

Barnaby shrugged. “Why not? You want romance, Agnes wants ratings. It is possible to have both.”

“Agnes would be pissed if the proposal that aired wasn’t the real one,” Kotetsu said.

“As long as nobody else knew, I don’t see why she’d be angry,” Barnaby said. “She doesn’t care if it’s real as much as she cares if it brings in viewers.”

“Hm.” Kotetsu scratched his beard. “I guess you’re probably right. I mean, I still don’t want a public one, but if we had one that was just for us, I wouldn’t mind so much.”

Barnaby opened the door to the roof and held it for Kotetsu. He could feel his heart pounding in his fingertips. “That’s good to hear.”

Kotetsu walked outside. “Eh, I guess you can tell Agnes we decided on something.”

He took three steps onto the roof and stopped dead in his tracks. “Huh? Bunny? Is someone having a party here?”

If Barnaby had thought he’d been nervous in the hallway, it was nothing compared to now. He knew, logically, that the roof had been decorated—he could see the lights out of the corner of his eye—but he was focused wholly on Kotetsu, who was still looking around in confusion.

Barnaby got down on one knee and pulled out the ring he’d been carrying around all day.

Kotetsu turned back to him. “Bunny, what—”

His eyes settled on Barnaby and he stopped, a series of increasingly confused expressions crossing his face until realization dawned and his mouth dropped open.

Now, Barnaby was supposed to launch into the speech he’d been planning for weeks. He was supposed to talk about how much Kotetsu meant to him, how much he admired him, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, how he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with him for years now.

Absolutely none of the words came to him. He could look at Kotetsu and feel everything, so overwhelmed with love that it took his breath away, but he couldn’t even fathom where to start. He’d spent literal hours practicing this and now all the words he’d had seemed woefully inadequate.

Kotetsu was still staring at him and Barnaby still hadn’t managed to say a damn thing.

He took a deep breath. “Kotetsu, I…”

That was as far as he got before the words deserted him again.

Kotetsu grinned like a fool. “It’s stressful, isn’t it?”

Barnaby glared at him. “Don’t make fun of me, old man.”

“Just take a deep breath and tell me all the things you like about me, Bunny-chan. Like my winning smile. Or my ass.”

“I’m not talking about your ass when I’m trying to propose!” Barnaby snapped.

“Why not?” Kotetsu looked wounded. “Don’t you like my ass?”

“That has nothing to do with why I want to propose to you.”

“Then why do you want to propose to me?”

“Because you…you do things like this,” Barnaby said, gesturing between them. “You try to make people laugh when they’re worried or stressed. Even when you’re struggling with your own things, you want to help other people. You’re kind and selfless, the most caring and dedicated man I know, and I—” He cleared his throat. “My life is so much richer and better for sharing it with you.”

Kotetsu rubbed the back of his neck and his gaze darted away, a blush high on his cheeks. “Ah, Bunny—”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to interrupt me right now,” Barnaby said.

Kotetsu laughed thickly, and when he glanced back, Barnaby could see that his eyes were shining. “Sorry.”

Barnaby took a deep breath. He was going to make it through this without breaking down. Then again, from his understanding, breaking down was somewhat expected at a time like this.

“I want to be your partner,” he said. “Not just in work, but in life as well. In everything. You…balance me. And I lo—”

Kotetsu grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him to his feet, and before Barnaby could protest—this was leather and he was still supposed to be proposing—Kotetsu crushed their mouths together.

Barnaby stumbled backward into the door, looping one arm around Kotetsu’s waist and clenching his other hand tightly to keep from losing the ring. He thanked God for the door at his back; Kotetsu was no help whatsoever and Barnaby wasn’t sure how much longer his legs would hold up. All he could do was cling tight to Kotetsu and return the kiss for all he was worth.

When Kotetsu finally pulled back just long enough to take an unsteady breath, Barnaby cleared his throat and said, “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I did!” Kotetsu protested. “Partners in everything, you balance me, I love you, I heard all that.”

Barnaby rested their foreheads together. “I still haven’t actually asked you.”

“Close enough.”

“I’m going to do this properly.” Barnaby pulled back just far enough to meet Kotetsu’s eyes. “Will you marry me, Kotetsu?”

Kotetsu stared at him, eyes wide, looking so disbelieving and vulnerable that it made Barnaby irrationally want to pack him away in a box so he couldn’t possibly get hurt.

Kotetsu buried his face in Barnaby’s shoulder. “Bunny.”

Barnaby rubbedhis hand over Kotetsu’s back and pressed his nose into his hair, breathing in. Kotetsu was so very good at being romantic, and so very unable to handle it when someone was romancing him. “Is that a yes?”

Kotetsu’s whole body shuddered. “Of course it’s a yes,” he said, his voice shaking. “You know it’s a yes.”

“I don’t know it’s a yes. I can’t know until you—”

Kotetsu kissed him again, and this time, it lifted a weight from his chest that Barnaby hadn’t realized he’d been carrying around. Carrying for weeks, apparently, ever since he’d decided he was going to ask Kotetsu to marry him. Being mostly sure of the answer didn’t make it any less stressful.

“How in the hell did you even set all this up?” Kotetsu asked between kisses.

Barnaby finally took the time to look at the roof decorations: an arbor lit with reams of white Christmas lights, over a table with two giant bouquets of red roses on either end. Sitting in the middle was a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne chilling and two glasses on the table beside it.

Nathan had really outdone himself, and Barnaby made a mental note to get him an appropriate thank-you gift later.

“It wasn’t me,” he said. “Nathan and Keith took care of everything.”

Kotetsu raised his eyebrows. “Antonio didn’t help?”

“He didn’t know.” Barnaby narrowed his eyes. “He’d have gone out drinking with you and told you everything. Keith and Nathan know how to keep a secret.”

Kotetsu scoffed, and then sighed. “Okay, you’re right.”

Barnaby caught Kotetsu’s hand and led him over to the table to pour the champagne. The rooftop looked out over the sprawling levels of the city, the lights glittering all around, so bright that the full moon above seemed to pale in comparison.

Barnaby held out the ring.“I wasn’t sure if you’d want one. Another one,” he admitted. “But Nathan said it wouldn’t be a proposal without a ring.”

Kotetsu took the ring and wiped his eyes. “Nathan’s right.”

He slipped it—silver, with alternating red and green stones in a band around the middle—onto his left hand, right above his wedding ring. Barnaby’s heart flipped to see it there.

“You need one, too,” Kotetsu said.

Barnaby handed him a glass of champagne. “I’ll get one when we get married.”

When, now, not if.

From the way Kotetsu grinned, he’d picked up on that, too. “Hey, I don’t want to be the only one wearing an engagement ring.”

Barnaby reached out and pulled him close again. “If you want me to wear a ring, I’ll wear a ring.”

“It’d be nice.” Kotetsu took a sip of champagne and gave him a sly grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you a good one.”

“You’re taking Nathan with you,” Barnaby said immediately.

“Hey, believe it or not, I’m good at picking out jewelry!” Kotetsu jabbed a finger into his shoulder. “I’ll find you a perfect ring before I have to propose on camera. Just watch me.”

“I…” Barnaby glanced down at his champagne; why was this suddenly so hard to say? “I had thought I’d tell Agnes that I would do it.”

Kotetsu’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because you’re right, it was presumptuous of her to think you’d be doing the proposing, especially when you’ve never liked doing that kind of thing in public,” Barnaby said. “But I don’t mind it. And I…want people to know how much you mean to me. I want them to see that. I want to tell them that.”

He wanted to tell people that all the time. He wanted to bring it up in every interview. He wanted to tell them all how Kotetsu had taken a hard look at him—back when Barnaby was angry and vengeful and broken—and had still decided he was worth protecting, that
he could be better than what he’d been raised to be, and had never wavered in that belief. Because Kotetsu was a foolish, old-fashioned optimist, and Barnaby loved him for it.

Kotetsu stared at him in disbelief, a look that slowly sobered to something else that Barnaby recognized, but could never quite identify. He leaned in closer and pulled their foreheads together, and Barnaby closed his eyes.

“Whatever you want, Bunny-chan.” Kotetsu’s voice was rough. “But if you want me to propose to you, I’ll do it. Even in front of the cameras. I don’t mind, as long as it makes you happy. Besides, we’re already engaged.”  

The reminder gave him a thrill, and Barnaby tightened his arm around Kotetsu’s waist. “I want you. This…it’s all that matters. I just want you.”

“Bunny,” Kotetsu whispered, in that particular inflection that Barnaby had long ago learned meant I love you.

Barnaby kissed him to say it back, kissed him to say all the things he’d tried and failed to in his proposal. Words weren’t enough—words were never enough—but this way, he hoped he could get Kotetsu to understand just a fraction of what he felt.

They were engaged now. That meant, at some point in the very near future, they would be married. Partners not because someone told them to be, or because they worked together, but because they’d chosen to be.

And Barnaby would gladly choose Kotetsu, over and over, for the rest of his life.