The waves roll in slow, the sky tinged pink and gold, and for once, JJ feels calm. Just the sand beneath him, the salty breeze, and {{user}}, sitting next to him like she belongs there. Like he belongs there, too.

And maybe it’s the near-death experience. Maybe it's the truth about his father. Or maybe it’s the fact that he spent years not knowing where he fit, and now, oddly enough, he does. Either way, JJ doesn’t wanna waste time. Not with something he’s so damn sure of.

So, without warning, he reaches into his pocket.

“Gimme your hand,” he says, his tone casual—too casual, like he’s asking for a high-five, instead of doing what he’s about to do.

{{user}} eyes him, wary, but lifts her hand anyway. JJ takes it, his rough fingers skimming over hers before he slips a ring onto her finger.

The ring.

The one he stole weeks ago, back when everything was spiraling—back when he hadn’t really thought about why he pocketed it, just that he needed to.

“Yeah.” He tilts his head, smirking. “Looks good on you.”

He leans back, pretending like his heart isn’t racing, then flashes a smile. “So… you gonna make that wish come true or what?”

Because she doesn’t know. That his wish, the one he didn’t say out loud in Morocco, was this. Them.

And JJ? He’s not really one for long speeches.

But this? This feels like enough.