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He was laughing again, lacing his fingers against Ian’s. “You’re the one that’s eloquent, I hate to break it to you, love. I just tell it like it is… And look good. I’m like a trophy wife.”

His face was getting that familiar feeling again, that ache from smiling too much, from laughing so hard. They’d barely started their night and already he was having the time of his life. He exercised those muscles again, smiling at the gentle caress against his wrist.

“It was the same with you, you know. You’re my rock, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Seriously! And,” he added, firmly, “No matter what happened, you came back. You survived and you came back and that’s what counts. You’re so strong.”

He met Ian’s eyes as the waitress set down their food, the same sort of mischievousness dancing in his.

“Oh, good! I’m glad you penciled in some time for that,” he grinned, and then it was the laughter all over again, ceasing only when he stuffed his fork into his mouth.

Swallowing a mouthful of shrimp and rice, he reached for his beer and washed it all down with a satisfied sound.

“You always find the best places, Ian, I don’t know how you do it. I think you’ve outdone yourself here though, god, this food really is good. And the music, ah, it’s so lively!”

Another few bites and he was eyeing Ian back, looking playful.

“Fine, no vegetables. But maybe,” he paused, chewing thoughtfully and thinking of his own hair, which was anything but ordinary. “Maybe, hmm, how do you feel about a stripe of color? I think you’d look good, maybe a nice red? Would you want to?”

Shiloh stayed decidedly mute, filling his mouth with food as his cheeks turned particularly pink. He’d just been kidding around, sort of, and then Ian had to go and make him feel, well, he made him feel like he always did – wonderful, loved, like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

“You’re right,” he conceded, swallowing his food and offering him a shy smile, gently massaging Ian’s fingertips. “How did I ever get so lucky to meet you? Wait, don’t answer that, I know you’re just going to repeat what you just said and if you say it again you’re going to give me a horrible ego, Ian Rahal-Nazari.”

He knew that was what Ian could say from the moment his lips began to move, so he cut him off before he could say it, worried that he’d be pinker than the shrimp in his food before the meal was done.

And it was mostly done, as he finished off his beer and set the bottle down with a soft clink against the table.

“Really? You’d let me?” Shiloh’s expression turned hopeful. “I mean, I love your hair the way it is too, you know I do gorgeous, but it could be fun to do something different! Right? And I think you’d look absolutely jaw dropping with a streak of red.

He grinned, giving Ian’s hand a squeeze. They’d both barely set down their forks when suddenly the music switched, the gentle tunes that had played over dinner changing to something bolder, livelier and Shiloh turned his head to watch them, his face filled with awe.

It was an expression that didn’t change as Ian appeared in front of him, hand outstretched and looking so incredible that Shiloh found it hard to believe he wasn’t really a prince, straight out of a fairytale.

“Really?” he repeated again in soft disbelief, just as excited and hopeful as when he’d said it only moment before, but this time there was no stopping him from turning pink, his entire body feeling like it was filled with a rosy glow. He set his napkin next to his plate and pushed his chair back, graciously accepting Ian’s offered hand.

“Of course, of course you may. I’d love to,” was all he could get out, staring at Ian with unabashed affection.

“You’re awful,” he said, wincing at Ian’s pun.

Despite that, Shiloh was still practically beaming. He’d dyed his friends hair before but this was different, this was Ian. To get to share it with him was something special, and whether or not Ian decided to keep it in the end, it wouldn’t matter, just the fact that he was willing to try and the fact that they could share it together was more than enough.

It was an elated feeling that lasted as Ian took his hand, the perfect prince, and raised it to his lips, sealing his answer with a kiss. Shiloh needed no further invitation and he followed Ian as he pulled them onto the dance floor amid the other couples. His nervousness not quite conquered, he broke into soft laughter as Ian slid an arm around his waist, his other hand finding Shiloh’s.

“Never,” Shiloh admitted, smiling up at him. Anything he felt seemed to pale with Ian’s arm around him, and the entire restaurant seemed to fade away as he met Ian’s green eyes. All that was left was the two of them, and the music, and suddenly he didn’t feel so nervous, even if his knowledge of swing was abysmal. The best he could do was keep up with his boyfriend, as Ian slid backward, Shiloh in his wake.

He was laughing again, unable to help it as he stepped around Ian, trying to catch the beat.

“You’re seeing it,” he said, moving along the floor with Ian. “How about a dance lesson instead, Mr. Razal-Nahari? Otherwise I’m gonna have to break into the chicken dance pretty soon.”

He offered him a grin, giving the arm he was holding onto a squeeze.

Shiloh was perfectly okay with winging it. It was what ducks did best after all. His shyness had come from just, an overwhelming sense of adoration and butterflies in his stomach, getting asked to dance was just something so whimsical and wonderful and romantic.

If Ian hadn’t already won his heart ten times over, he’d certainly be winning it now.

“Roger that,” he answered, half-skipping after Ian. He wasn’t sure how the steps went, and his ability to follow wasn’t much better, but between the two of them they managed some semblance of something and above all it was fun, so incredibly fun. Shiloh couldn’t stop smiling, his laughter echoing after Ian’s.

“The absolute best,” he managed between Ian’s daring move for a kiss, and he encouraged Ian to do it again, so he could steal a kiss himself, first his cheek, then a quick press to his lips. It was all happening so fast, he didn’t even worry if anyone might notice.

“And I haven’t even stepped on your foot once,” Shiloh said proudly, as Ian twirled him yet again and he dipped himself against Ian’s arm, squeezing onto his hand. “A success if I ever saw one.”

The music slowed not long after, not slow enough to be called a slow song but it invited couples to move closer and so they did, Ian’s arms finding him again and Shiloh did the same, glancing up at Ian with a look on his face that said he was feeling every lyric that floated across the stage.

“It’s perfect,” he said, nearly bubbling over with enthusiasm. “You’re perfect. This is a blast, baby, you’re totally channeling Prince Charming right now.”

He leaned over, kissing him slowly and sweetly before resting his head on Ian’s shoulder, just swaying with him.

“Absolutely perfect,” he cooed softly.

"Do you think anyone on the island knows?" He asked, rocking gently against Ian. Though, the more he thought about it, the more he didn't particularly want to share this moment at least not when it came to the island. Bumbling around, just the two of them was like magic, like they are existed in their own little world. If they could bring that sort if reprieve home with them, Shiloh would do his best to make it happen. "Maybe we could get some of those dance tapes or something, or we can roleplay Dirty Dancing."

Ian's dancing expression was contagious and Shiloh grinned at him, entirely serious. He closes what little space Ian had put between them and wrapped his arms around his chest, a move not at all related to dancing as he glanced up at him.

"I'm ready, Prince Ian. Whisk me away to your castle and have your wa- well, have whatever part two is."

He giggled a little, releasing his hold on Ian and straightening up. He had absolutely no idea what Ian had planned but he was still beyond excited. The exhilaration of dancing left him feeling heady, giddy and he couldn't wait to see what was coming next. He knew it would be amazing, because no matter what Ian chose, he'd gone to the time and effort to do this all for Shiloh. Shiloh was already moved, his heart touched and anything now was just icing on the delicious cake that was his boyfriend.

"I love you," he said again, not for the first time that night and definitely not for the last. "You're spoiling me and I love you, and I'd love you anyway of course, but I just thought you should know. You know, that I love you a lot."

He smiled, fingers finding Ian's hand and curling around it.

"So, where to next, handsome?"

“Yeah,” he murmured, content to just sway back and forth in time to the music. He laughed a little, the sound low, at the prospect of reenacting Dirty Dancing. His imagination might have gone that far but he hadn’t thought to propose it and he smiled widely up at Ian, because he had.

It didn’t matter that they weren’t really dancing so much anymore, though the song wasn’t quite an actual slow song, it was slow enough that they didn’t look out of place. If they had, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Shiloh’s attention was focused solely on the handsomely suited man that he currently had his arms wrapped around and nothing would budge it.

Except of course, for said man himself.

“Of course I’m ready,” he answered with more enthusiasm than a five year old, forgetting all about the joke he was going to make, something about riding all the way home, and he squeezed Ian’s hand back, practically humming with excitement as he followed him to the table and then back into the open air.

“So, where did you whisk me away to anyway?” he questioned as the walked along the city streets. His amble was considerably more relaxed compared to his boyfriends, but Shiloh didn’t seem to notice, too busy looking every which way at the signs, the sights and the people. His head held tightly in Ian’s, he felt no need to rush, enjoying the journey just as much as he was sure he’d enjoy the destination.

But they did reach where they were going, Ian whispering and ushering him around another corner after only several minutes of walking.

The way Ian whispered put Shiloh on high alert, like an overexcited puppy he nearly bounced at Ian’s side, following him into the courtyard that awaited them around the corner. It was by all means just a courtyard, but to Shiloh it may as well have been the promised castle, his shoes clicking against the cobblestone – which he felt was incredibly quaint, a touch of history and absolutely wonderful - as he stepped towards the fountain, glued to Ian’s hip.

“Ducks!” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, so incredibly stoked about the pair of them swimming their little feet in the little fountain but not wanting to startle them. The courtyard almost invited quiet whispers, Shiloh noticing that the thrum of the city seemed to have been left outside its small walls, like they’d left it all behind and found their own little patch of heaven between the skyscrapers.

“Oh gosh, that is the cutest story, do you think they’re, you know, in love? Imagine that, two little ducks in the big city and yes! Yes I want to feed them!”

He turned to Ian, letting go of his hand to search his pockets, grinning.

“Give up the bread, Mr. Razal-Nahari, and no one gets hurt.”

“I like it,” Shiloh said earnestly. He had more questions, as always, about college, about vacations, about the time he’d spent here but by then they’d reached the courtyard and an entirely new set of questions replaced them.

“I like that too,” he repeated, glancing at the ducks with a certain fondness. “Star-crossed lovers, that seems about right. I wonder how long they’ve been here.”

He pointedly made no move to watch where his hands were going, trying to resist as Ian batted them away and he relented only for the kiss, the amazing, wonderful kiss that he wanted to sink into forever, his hands finding much better purchase against the lapels of Ian’s suit.

Breadcrumbs and ducks were good, but they couldn’t compare to the taste of Ian’s lip’s against his or the rush of feeling he got every time their mouths met, like this was where he was meant to be, like every time they kissed it was like coming home, even if home was a million miles away.

The breadcrumbs, however, did do a fantastic job at brightening his pouting expression as Ian pulled away, and Shiloh smiled almost immediately, happily taking them from Ian.

“You did really think of everything,” he said, glancing at Ian with the same sort of fondness that he’d just given the ducks. “You’re the greatest, Ian, seriously.”

He followed Ian to the edge of the fountain, settling down beside him. Or rather, he was half beside half on top of him as he tried to maneuver to feed the ducks, digging through the bag of crumbs to toss some into the water.

“Lovebirds? Am I feeding us or them?”

He laughed and turned around, sitting properly. He had a mischievous look on his face as he met Ian’s eyes.

“Is my little lovebird still hungry?” he asked, pinching a breadcrumb between his fingers and flying it towards Ian like a little airplane.

“Don’t ruin it,” Shiloh teased, giving him a good-natured tap on the nose before attending to the ducks, tossing out breadcrumbs in little piles.

And then he was attempting to feed his favourite bird, but Ian was having none of it. His mouth found Shiloh’s fingers instead with the sort of nipping that Shiloh had no intention of scolding him for, especially when he followed it up by curling his fingers over the back of Shiloh’s neck, their touch warm, exhilarating, as they pulled him closer and their lips met again. This time there was no holding back, no distractions as the ducks happily quacked over their meal and Shiloh delightedly sunk into his.

Ian pulled back and Shiloh tried to catch his own breath, his face flushed, warm and positively beaming. He could catch it now, that there was something Ian wanted to tell him but he was half-listening, dazedly staring at Ian and ready to lean in all over again. One hand was clenched around Ian’s sleeve, the other holding firmly over the swell of his hip and he wanted nothing more than to be right here, right in this moment, and for it to last forever.

Fate, of course, never looked kindly on wishes for forever. Just as soon as he had bothered to think that this was perfect, as Ian pulled him closer yet still, Ian’s insistence turned into a gasp and the pair of them were falling backward into the water, much to the chagrin of the ducks, who quacked loudly, tittering as they flapped out of the way.

When all was said and done, at least Shiloh had ended up in Ian’s lap. It was a soggy lap now, but it was his lap all the same and Shiloh sat for a minute there, staring blankly.

Then, he laughed. He laughed, and he laughed some more, and he was still laughing as he turned against Ian, burying his head against the wet shoulder of his suit to wipe the tears from his face.

“Well, at least we gave the ducks dinner and a show,” he giggled without remorse, brushing his wet bangs from his face and looking up at Ian.

The night was still perfect, as far as he was concerned.