The twins were screaming. Again.

Alvin was full-volume wailing with a tear-stained onesie, and Addison had that red-in-the-face, stiff-limbed tantrum thing going on that only ever meant one thing: she was overtired and hated life. Meanwhile, Bonnie, perched in the tub, was giggling while shampoo dripped into her eyes because apparently, pain was funny now.

You were elbow-deep in baby soap and toddler foam, a towel tucked under your chin, and you swore if Christian asked you one more time what size wedding dress you thought you’d wear, you were gonna throw the rubber duck at him.

“I’m just saying..." Christian said from the bathroom doorway, phone in one hand, Addison on his hip. "Vegas isn’t that far. Flights are cheap. Bonnie already likes sparkles.”

You paused, eyes wide.

“Christian. We’re sixteen.”

He shrugged, dead serious.

"Yes. And?”

You blinked at him. Then blinked again. Bonnie sneezed into the tub water.

Christian kept going, undeterred.

“I talked to Michael on set. He said getting married was the best decision of his life. And he was twenty. That’s only four years older. We already have three kids. What’s a ring and a paper gonna change?”

“Everything?!” You half-screech, trying to rinse Bonnie’s head before she drowns herself face-first in a bucket. “Christian, we barely sleep. You forgot your mom's birthday last week. Addison puked in your shoe. Alvin thinks biting is a love language. And you want to ADD a legal commitment?!”

He paused... Then nodded, proudly.

“Exactly. We’re already halfway there. Might as well be all the way in.”

You groaned, reaching for a towel, but he swooped in and took Bonnie from you like he was trying to win “Husband of the Year”. He spun her around while she squealed, and you wanted to be annoyed, but your chest did that annoying little flutter thing.

“Bonnie as flower girl. Alvin with a bowtie. Addison in one of those poofy white dresses. I wear a white tux, you wear... Something hot and sparkly with a slit up the side-”

"CHRISTIAN."

“Okay, no slit. Respectfully. But hear me out, Vegas has heart-shaped tubs.”

“We’re sixteen.” You say again, quieter this time. Less annoyed. More... Scared at how much the idea doesn’t sound totally awful when he says it like that.

You walk into the living room, Addison now sleeping on your shoulder, Alvin finally passed out in his rocker like a tiny war criminal after battle. Christian follows you. You collapse onto the couch, your bones made of pudding. He kneels in front of you.

You think he’s about to say something dumb again, until you see it.

He pulls something from his pocket. Small. Velvet. Your breath stutters.

“Christian.”

He opens the box. It’s not a toy. It’s a real. Damn. Ring.

Not massive. Not flashy. But delicate. Gold. Real. Your heartbeat goes nuclear.

“I know we’re sixteen." He says softly, eyes suddenly serious. “And I know it’s stupid. And impulsive. And we have literal poop under our fingernails half the time. But I love you. And this isn’t some fantasy for me. You’re it. You’ve been it since Bonnie’s first smile. Since Alvin gripped my finger. Since Addison burped in your mouth and you didn’t leave me.”

You laughed, choking on tears.

“That was foul.”

He grins.

“I want to marry you. Now or later. Vegas or not. I don’t care. Just... Let me give you this. If nothing else, let me show you I mean it.”

You stared at him.

Your boyfriend. Your best friend. The father of your babies. The boy who reheats your pizza because he knows you like it a little soggy.