Work Text:
Roy resists the impulse to buy a ring. It's just a conversation. He and Keeley are grown adults who can communicate with each other and he knows better than to put her on the spot with a public proposal. Which this is not. It's not a private proposal either, he keeps reminding himself, because he's an adult who can communicate.
He's not fooling himself either. It's sort of a proposal.
Getting up from the couch and walking into the kitchen where she's working feels like he's about to get down on one knee with the whole fucking club watching. It's just a conversation, he growls at himself. His heart keeps on rabitting anyway.
"Keeley?" he asks, and she looks up with a smile. He can't help but smile back, of course, and there's a moment where they just stare at each other, until he clears his throat.
"I," he pauses, "I have something I wanna talk about with you."
Keeley tilts her head and closes her laptop. "Is something wrong? Your eyebrows are doing that thing again."
Roy ignores that and sits down, pulls the chair close enough he can grab Keeley's hands in his own.
"I've been thinking, like, a lot. About you. Me. Us. Fuck."
She looks at him seriously, but not worried. Not scared he'll leave her. They've come so far since that stupid fight.
Roy can feel himself tearing up and sucks in a breath through his teeth.
"Keeley."
If he can just get his fucking words out, christ. He squeezes her hands. Grounds himself.
"I love you. I love you so fucking much. I want to marry you, Keeley. I guess I just, I need you to know that. I need it out there. I don't have a ring, I'm not gonna fucking spell it out on the pitch with players like fucking Ted, unless you want that. But I--"
He's cut off by Keeley surging forward and kissing him. He kisses back immediately, leaning across the table to tangle his fingers in her hair. They stay like that for a moment before she pulls away. Her eyes are bright with tears like he knows his own are, and she's looking at him with love. And a hint of something else.
"Oh, Roy. God, I fucking love you too. But I," she looks away slightly, tries to pull her hands out of his. He doesn't let go, and she stills. But she still doesn't lean back into them.
"I'm just starting to, to be someone the world sees as more than a pair of tits. Now, when people think of me, they think of a badass PR manager--"
"As they should," he interrupts, and she laughs.
"Yeah. But I'm...," she lets out a long breath.
"I would love nothing more in the world than to marry you, Roy. But I'm scared that if I do, all the world will see of me is Roy Kent's wife and I'm scared that that will make me hate you."
This time it's her who squeezes his hands for comfort.
"I don't want to hate you, Roy."
Roy processes this, and lets out a sigh of his own. "C'mere," he says, standing up, and Keeley lets him pull her up with him. They stand in the kitchen, face to face.
"I'm not gonna lie and say I'm not upset, because I am. I want the whole world to know how much I love my incredible, talented girlfriend," he says.
"But I get it. And I love you, and I respect your choices—" and then Keeley is letting go of his hands to wrap him up in a hug.
"I may not be ready to marry you right now," Keeley whispers into his ear, "But I've always thought long engagements were romantic as fuck."