Work Text:
Conrad is confused when he hears keys in the door. He knows Steven and Belly went up to Seattle for a few days to visit family, and no one else should be coming in. He’s definitely not wallowing in how much he misses her, which is why he’s still in bed at 10 a.m., very much not wallowing, just occupying Belly’s side of the bed while clinging to her pillow like it might bring her back.
It doesn’t. Obviously.
The sound of the key turning is followed by the door swinging open, and for a split second, he doesn’t even care if whoever’s walking in is here to kill him. Honestly, he’d prefer it. But it’s hard to imagine a murderer letting themselves in with a key.
“Wakey wakey, bitch.”
Nope. Not a murderer. Just Taylor.
Conrad groans into the pillow. Of course it’s Taylor.
Conrad never hated Taylor. Not even close. He could tell, even early on, that she had feelings for Steven—ones she, at least to Conrad, were terrible at hiding—and that, paired with her fierce protectiveness over Belly, made her feelings toward him less than warm. She was not subtle about it either. She did not like how well they could read each other. She did not like how quiet he could get. Did not like the way he shut down when things got hard.
And honestly, he kind of got it.
But over the years, he came to appreciate Taylor—the way her sharp wit could cut through any tension, how fiercely loyal she was to the people she loved, and the stubborn kindness she hid beneath all that sarcasm. She wasn’t easy to read, but once you earned even a fraction of her trust, it was clear she had a heart just as big as anyone’s.
Which is why she’d been keeping him company the last few days. Between her hybrid job and his classes, they’d spent more time together than usual. It was Saturday today, so they both had the whole day free.
He was still facedown on the bed, fully aware that Taylor was standing in the doorway.
“Take off your shoes, please,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow he wished would swallow him whole and drop him straight in Seattle.
“Duh. They’ve been off, Fisher.” She grabbed one of the pillows he’d unceremoniously dropped on the floor and started hitting him with it.
“Stop that,” He says, making no effort to actually stop it.
“Get it together, Conrad. It’s been three days. They’re coming back tomorrow. You’re being pathetic.”
“I am not pathetic.” He finally turns to look at her, and shes standing there, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised, unimpressed.
“Okay, sure. Just get up and shower so your yearning doesn’t stain the sheets. I got you a coffee, so hurry up if you want it hot.”
“Fine.” He groaned, pushing himself off the bed. “Only because of the coffee.”
“And my amazing company, bitch. Don’t you forget it.”
He makes quick work of getting ready.
He makes quick work of getting ready. The bathroom door clicks shut behind him, leaving Taylor alone in the room. She leans against the doorframe, watching the ceiling like she’s trying to figure out how long it’ll take before Conrad emerges, slightly less pathetic but still definitely Conrad.
A few minutes later, he stumbles out, hair still damp, a tired but genuine smile on his face.
She handed him his coffee, and without missing a beat, he took it in giant gulps like he hadn’t had caffeine in days.
“Jesus, Conrad. It’s not going anywhere.”
“Sorry,” he said between swallows, “I’ve been so busy studying for Step 2 that I’ve been pulling all-nighters.”
“It’s fine, just slow down before you drown yourself.” She pulls her laptop out of her bag, putting it across from his on his kitchen table, which was now basically swallowed whole by textbooks and legal pads.
“Sorry, let me clear that off.”
“You’re usually much neater than this, Fisher.”
“Well, you should have seen me before my Step 1. Agnes had to to basically stage an intervention just to make me do my laundry.”
Taylor made a face, typing something into her laptop. “That’s nasty. You’re lucky Belly wasn’t around to witness that. She would've burned your sheets and called FEMA.”
Conrad smiled at the mention of her, his eyes softening in that way Taylor had come to recognize. It was quiet and tired, but certain, like his whole body relaxed just from hearing Belly’s name.
“You’re disgusting,” she said, without looking up. “But like, romantically. Gross.”
He didn’t deny it.
They settled into a quiet rhythm, the only sounds in the apartment the soft clicks of Taylor’s keyboard and the occasional shuffle of pages as Conrad flipped through his notes. His highlighter squeaked against the page every so often, while Taylor sipped her now-lukewarm coffee and scrolled through a spreadsheet with mild resentment.
The silence wasn’t awkward. It never was between them. But it stretched long enough for their minds to start wandering.
Taylor didn’t mean to spiral. Not really. But when Steven had started talking about “future plans” and asked if she liked emerald-cut rings (of course she did,) it planted a seed she couldn’t un-hear. She told herself it was probably nothing. Maybe he was just curious. Maybe it was just Steven being unlike himself, saying things with no follow-through. But the way he said it was different. Not casual. And now, she couldn’t stop replaying it, couldn’t stop wondering if her best friend’s brother was about to become her fiancé.
Across from her, Conrad had stopped reading. His pen was still in his hand, but he wasn’t writing. His eyes had drifted to the margin of the page, unfocused.
He didn’t usually talk about big things without warning. But he’d been carrying this one around for a while. The thought kept following him—when he watched her laugh, or fall asleep against him on the couch, or when she sent him a blurry picture of a sunset. He hadn’t told anyone. Not even Steven. But now, with Taylor sitting across from him, eyes narrowed at her laptop like it had personally offended her, he suddenly felt like saying something.
He cleared his throat, barely audible. Taylor didn’t look up.
“I think I’m gonna propose,” he said, quiet but certain.
Taylor’s head snapped up. “You what?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but it sliced through the stillness like a crack of thunder.
Conrad didn’t flinch. He just met her eyes and repeated it, this time a little stronger. “I’m thinking about proposing. To Belly.”
Taylor blinked. Then blinked again, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right the first time.
“You mean, like… actually ask her to marry you?”
Conrad nodded once.
She sat back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes scanning his face like she was trying to read a hidden subtext.
“Jesus, Fisher. You could’ve led with literally anything else.”
He gave a small, sheepish smile. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
Taylor tilted her head slightly. “Why me?”
He paused, fiddling with the edge of his coffee cup.
“Because you know her. Maybe better than anyone. And because you’re important to her.” He glanced up. “Which means you’re important to me too.”
Something about the way he said it made her sit a little straighter. But he meant it. She could tell.
She exhaled, long and slow, then picked up her coffee.
“Well, damn,” she said. “You really do love her.”
He smiled into his lap. “Yeah. I do.”
Without even thinking, Taylor spilled, “I think Steven is going to propose soon.”
Taylor didn’t mean to say it out loud. It just tumbled out, unfiltered, in the quiet that followed Conrad’s admission.
Conrad looked up, surprised but not shocked. There was a softness in his expression, like he’d already known.
“He’s been talking about it,” he said carefully. “Not a full-on plan or anything. Just… thoughts.”
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “Thoughts?”
Conrad shrugged, doing his best not to betray Steven’s confidence. “You know how he is. Overthinks everything until he talks himself out of it. But he’s serious about you. He has been for a long time.”
Taylor stared at her coffee like it might offer clarity.
“I figured,” she murmured. “It’s just… weird to think about. Like we’re still kids, sort of. Except we’re not.”
“No,” Conrad said. “We’re not.”
A pause stretched between them again. Comfortable, but heavier now.
Taylor glanced up at him, her voice quieter than before. “Is it scary?”
“Yeah,” Conrad said honestly. “But it’s scarier not doing it. Like if I wait too long, I’ll mess up the best thing I’ve ever had.”
Taylor nodded slowly. That made sense. In the kind of way that settled in your chest, not just your head.
She didn’t say anything for a long time. Just went back to her laptop and opened a new tab like nothing had shifted between them, even though everything had.
They both knew they weren’t doing work, but they were still trying to fool the other one.
“So, who are you going to talk to first? Laurel and John or Steven?”
“Probably Steven, then Laurel and John. I’m not talking to them to get their permission or whatever, and I think telling him first is better because he’s not a phone call away and he’d probably get it out of me anyway,” Conrad said, his eyes still on the same line of his notes he’d been staring at for minutes. “And hopefully it’ll take his mind off of overthinking asking you.”
Taylor snorted. “Did he tell you anything? Rings? Locations? A Pinterest board I should be aware of?”
“I’m not ruining the surprise,” Conrad said. “He’s been bouncing ideas off me for a while, but whatever he’s planning, it’s gonna be good.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar. I know you know exactly when and where and how it’s going down.”
He raised both hands in mock surrender, that barely-there smirk threatening to give him away.
“You’re so not going to be best man,” she added.
“You don’t get to make that call.”
“I absolutely do. Fiancée privileges.”
“You’re not even engaged yet.”
“Minor detail,” she said, grabbing her coffee again.
Taylor leaned back in her chair, eyes still on him. “Let’s stop talking about my hypothetical engagement. Let’s talk about yours. What’s the plan, Fisher?”
Conrad hesitated, eyes flicking to his notes again like they might save him. “Very early stages, Taylor, remember when I told you five seconds ago that you’re the first person I’m telling about this?”
“You genuinely have no plans? You, Conrad Fisher, unprepared?”
“It’s not like I’m asking her tomorrow.”
“Well, you better be ready to ask her soon, now that I know,” Taylor said, pointing her coffee at him like it was a threat.
Conrad smiled into his mug, shaking his head. “You’re not exactly subtle, you know that? And I’m not scared of you.”
“Not my job to be subtle. My job is to bully you into not screwing up the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He leaned back, stretching out his legs under the table. “I have the ring,” he said quietly.
Taylor blinked. “Wait. What?”
He nodded once, as if saying it out loud made it more real than he was ready for. “It’s my mom’s. After Belly and Jere called off their wedding, the ring kind of drifted. I didn’t expect to find it, but a few months ago, there it was, right on her bedside table at the beach house.”
“…Do you think Jere left it there? As like, I don’t know… some kind of quiet acknowledgment? Like he’s okay with you and Belly being back together… maybe even with what’s coming next?”
“Maybe, but I’ve had it for a while. I keep it on the high shelf in the cabinets so she can’t find it.” Taylor barked out a laugh.
“Well now I know where to check in Steven and I’s apartment. Thanks for the hint, Fisher.”
“Don’t go looking for it, Taylor. It’ll happen when the time is right. Can we get back to work, please?”
“Right, because you were totally doing work before.”
“I was,”
Taylor raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. “Sure you were. Let me see your notebook.” Conrad purses his lips and squints his eyes.
“Let me see your laptop,”
“Not happening,”
“So, we’re both pretending to do work.”
Taylor smirked. “Yeah, and you’re buying me lunch for distracting me.”
“I wasn’t distracting you,” Conrad shot back. “You weren’t doing anything to begin with.”
“Whatever.”
The next afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the quiet street as Conrad pulled up in his car outside Taylor and Steven’s apartment. The soft glow filtered through the trees, painting everything with a lazy, late-day haze.
Taylor was already waiting on the doorstep, phone in hand, waving as he rolled down the window.
“Ready to pick up the Conklins?”
“Been ready, Fisher.” He shifted the car into drive and eased onto the street, beginning the trip to the airport. She looks to the backseat and sees a big boquet of roses.
“Those for Steven?” she asked, deadpan.
“You bet,” Conrad replied without missing a beat. “Figured nothing says ‘I missed you’ like two dozen long-stemmed reds.”
“So, you thought about it anymore?”
“Thought about what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Fisher. You opened Pandora’s box by telling me,”
“Remind me why I told you in the first place?”
“Because we are both tied for the most important person in Belly’s life,” she said sweetly, making Conrad look over at her incredulously. “And, because you knew I wouldn’t let you propose with zero input.”
“Oh great,” he muttered. “I’ve got a proposal committee now.”
Taylor smirked. “Exactly. And this committee wants updates. Timeline, location, emotional preparedness. Don’t keep us in the dark, Fisher.”
He rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.
“You’ll get updates when I have them.” Both Conrad and Taylor’s phones pinged. Taylor picked hers up and smiled.
“They just landed!”
“Thank god we left when we did so we got here right on time.”
“Okay, Dad,”
Conrad huffed a laugh, pulling into the arrivals lane. “You make fun of me now, but Steven does not like to be kept waiting.”
They waited in a quiet that felt too short, both leaning forward in their seats, watching the doors. A moment later, Taylor sat up straighter.
“There,” she said, nodding toward the entrance.
Belly and Steven stepped out through the sliding doors, both with backpacks over their shoulders and duffel bags in hand. Their faces were a little flushed from the flight but relaxed in that way that only comes from a few days away. Steven was saying something, half-laughing, and Belly bumped her shoulder into his, grinning like whatever they were talking about was still making her laugh.
Her hair was down, loose and a little windswept, catching the breeze as they walked. Her (his) hoodie sleeves were fell past her fingertips, and there was a glow to her cheeks that Conrad could spot from yards away.
Conrad didn’t move at first. He couldn’t. His breath caught somewhere in his chest, and for a second, it felt like the world stilled. Like time had stretched just to give him this moment, watching her walk toward him with that same easy smile that had undone him since he was fifteen.
Then, without a word, they opened their doors. Conrad reached into the backseat and grabbed the bouquet of roses. He tried to act like it was nothing. Just flowers. But his fingers tightened slightly around the stems, like he needed to hold onto something real. Something that could match the weight of what he was feeling.
Taylor noticed. Of course she did. But she didn’t say a thing.
Belly spotted him first. Her eyes lit up, and she broke into a run that was more of a skip, the kind of joyful movement she didn’t even seem to think about. Just instinct. She dropped her bag halfway to the car.
Conrad was already moving toward her.
They met in the middle of the sidewalk, right in front of the car, and she threw her arms around his neck without slowing down. He caught her easily, flowers still in one hand, and buried his face in her shoulder like he’d been waiting four days just to breathe her in again.
“Hi,” she whispered, breathless against his neck.
“Hi,” he murmured back, lips brushing her hair.
She pulled back just far enough to look at him. Her hands were still tangled behind his neck, her eyes shining and soft. “You got me flowers?”
“Of course I did, I missed you,” he said simply, and she kissed him.
It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. It was slow and smiling, like they were still catching up to each other, like four days apart had somehow felt like more. Conrad leaned into it, one hand on her waist, the other still loosely holding the bouquet like he’d forgotten he even had it.
Conrad looked over her shoulder, where Taylor had completely wrapped herself around Steven. Her arms were locked around his neck, legs cinched tightly around his waist like a koala with no intention of letting go. They were kissing deeply, oblivious to literally everything around them.
Conrad let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
Belly turned at the sound, then blinked at the sight in front of her. “Really?” she deadpanned.
Steven didn’t even bother to look sheepish. “Four days is a long time, Belly.”
Taylor just gave a thumbs-up mid–cling, still halfway in Steven’s hoodie like she lived there now.
“I thought we were bad,” Conrad muttered, grinning as he bent to pick up Belly’s duffel bag from where she’d dropped it on the sidewalk. He slung the strap over his shoulder, then reached for the backpack still looped over her arms.
“I’ve got it,” she said automatically, but he was already sliding it off her shoulder.
“I know you do,” he said. “But I missed you, so let me be obnoxiously helpful.”
She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Obnoxiously?”
“Ridiculously?” he offered with a soft laugh, adjusting both bags on his shoulder like it was nothing.
She held the roses in one hand, her fingers trailing lightly over the petals. “You really didn’t have to, you know.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But I wanted to.”
She looked up at him then, eyes warm. “I love them.”
His lips curved into a slow smile. “I hoped you would.”
They walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence, side by side, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel empty. Behind them, Steven let out a playful grunt as he was left with both his bags.
Conrad reached the trunk first, popped it open, and started loading in their bags. Belly’s duffel first, then Steven’s.
As he walked around to the passenger side, Steven piped up, “Shotgun.”
Belly glared at him immediately. Taylor grabbed his hand and without much protest moved him towards in the back seat.
Conrad chuckled, shaking his head as he shut the trunk with a soft thud. He slid into the driver’s seat just in time to catch Taylor wrangling Steven into the back, her grip firm around his arm like she had zero intention of letting him go.
He turned toward Belly, who was already settling into the passenger seat with that easy, familiar smile—like just being there was enough.
Without a word, Conrad reached over and laced his fingers through hers, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. It was soft, quick, but something about it made her smile widen. Her face was as red as the flowers in her lap.
He lingered there for a beat, then let go and glanced up into the rearview mirror.
Taylor was already staring back at him, one eyebrow raised and a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.
Conrad caught Taylor’s smirk in the rearview mirror and felt it in his chest—they were mirrors of each other, both hopelessly in love with a Conklin sibling, both carrying it the same, both understanding in a way no one else could.