"Another honeymoon?" Elliot repeated.

Adrian nodded with the confidence of a man proposing a perfectly reasonable business expense. "Preferably somewhere with good coffee and absolutely no duck-themed museums."

"You remember the duck?"

"Noah has sent me seventeen reminders."

Elliot smiled. "I have work deadlines. We can't disappear tomorrow."

"Then we start smaller. One date. Tonight."

"You're asking your husband out?"

"I'm asking the most attractive man in the state out. The husband part is a delightful coincidence."

Elliot pretended to consider. "Will there be food?"

"Excellent food."

"Will you be obnoxious?"

"Almost certainly."

"Then yes."

Adrian spent the afternoon planning. He ordered flowers, reserved a table at a fashionable restaurant, and asked Noah for advice.

"You already dated him for a year," Noah said. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because my brain deleted the instruction manual."

"Elliot isn't a dishwasher."

"That is the least helpful analogy you've ever offered."

Noah paused. "Listen. The first time you pursued him, you tried to impress him with everything money could buy. The night he finally relaxed was when your reservations fell apart."

"What happened?"

"You'll find out. Don't try too hard."

Adrian immediately tried too hard.

At six, he appeared downstairs in a dark suit holding a bouquet large enough to conceal a small orchestra.

Elliot descended the stairs in a navy sweater and stopped. "Adrian."

"Too much?"

"I can barely see you behind those flowers."

"They looked smaller online."

Elliot took the bouquet, laughing. "They're beautiful."

"So are you."

Elliot's smile changed. Adrian recognized the look: a flicker of surprise, then a softness he wanted to earn again and again.

Their driver took them downtown. Adrian had arranged a quiet table, but a private event had swallowed half the restaurant. Music thumped through the walls.

The waiter apologized for the confusion. Adrian glanced at Elliot, expecting disappointment.

"We can leave," he offered.

"I was about to suggest it."

Outside, rain began falling in earnest. Their driver was trapped several blocks away by traffic. Adrian removed his jacket and held it above Elliot's head.

"That won't help," Elliot said, already laughing.

"I'm protecting your hair."

"Your jacket is getting soaked."

"A worthy sacrifice."

They hurried beneath an awning outside a small diner. Warm light spilled across the wet sidewalk.

Elliot stopped laughing. He stared through the window at the red booths and paper menus.

"What?" Adrian asked.

"Nothing. Come on."

Inside, a waitress brought them coffee and two menus. Adrian ordered grilled cheese, tomato soup, and fries without thinking.

Elliot watched him with an expression Adrian couldn't read.

"Do I have soup on my face already?" Adrian asked.

"You ordered exactly what you ordered on our first date."

Adrian looked down at the menu. "That's unsettling."

"You also gave me your jacket in the rain."

"I assume I looked heroic."

"You looked drenched."

"Heroically drenched."

Elliot laughed, then blinked rapidly. Adrian put his hand over Elliot's on the table.

"Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. It's just strange. Four years ago, you spent an absurd amount of money on a restaurant. The reservation fell through, and we ended up here."

"Noah knew. That traitor."

"You told me you'd never had a better date."

"I suspect I was correct."

They ate slowly, talking about everything from Elliot's upcoming gallery project to the terrible coffee in Adrian's hospital room.

Adrian asked about Elliot's childhood drawings, his first apartment, and why he preferred winter to summer. Elliot answered without rushing.

For once, Adrian didn't feel the need to fill every pause with a joke. He wanted to know the man sitting across from him, not merely collect facts about the husband he'd forgotten.

After dinner, the rain softened. They walked to a nearby bookstore that stayed open late. Elliot browsed illustrated novels while Adrian wandered into the travel section.

He found a guide to the Oregon coast and held it up. "Research for honeymoon number two."

"We're not booking anything yet."

"I know. I'm learning patience."

"How's that going?"

"Terribly."

Elliot selected a sketchbook. Adrian offered to buy it, but Elliot paid for it himself.

Adrian hesitated, then nodded. It was a small reminder that affection didn't require taking over every decision.

Outside the bookstore, Elliot opened the sketchbook and drew a quick portrait of Adrian under the streetlamp.

"Why do I look so smug?" Adrian asked.

"Artistic accuracy."

"You forgot the heroic rain jacket."

"I'll add it later."

Adrian looked at the drawing, astonished by how tenderly Elliot had captured his expression. He had never thought of himself as someone worth sketching on a rainy sidewalk.

"You make me look like I belong somewhere," he said.

Elliot closed the book. "You do."

Back home, they changed into comfortable clothes and made tea. Adrian's elaborate evening had become an ordinary date, and he didn't want to change a minute of it.

Elliot sat beside him on the couch, their knees touching. Adrian took his hand.

"Would you like another date next week?" he asked.

"We live together."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Yes."

"Good. I'm making a spreadsheet."

"Please don't."

"Color-coded romance."

Elliot laughed so hard he leaned against Adrian's shoulder. Adrian kissed his hair and listened to the rain return against the windows.

Later, Elliot told him how the first year of their relationship had unfolded: the long courtship, Adrian's disastrous cooking, and the moment Elliot finally said yes to marriage.

Adrian tried to imagine that younger version of himself. He could picture the gestures but not the certainty behind them.

"Did I say something impressive when you accepted?" he asked.

"You cried."

"That sounds deeply impressive."

"Then you asked if I was serious four times."

"A responsible verification process."

Elliot smiled. Adrian held his gaze, feeling suddenly shy.

The next morning, Adrian discovered a receipt from the diner in his coat pocket. He placed it beside a photograph Elliot had taken of their grilled cheese sandwiches.

"You're preserving evidence," Elliot observed.

"Our relationship has an extensive archival requirement."

"You used to keep receipts from our dates."

Adrian looked up. "Really?"

Elliot nodded and retrieved a small box from a shelf. Inside were movie tickets, concert stubs, and paper napkins covered with hurried sketches.

One napkin held a drawing of a duck wearing a tuxedo. Adrian stared at it in horror.

"This is a recurring theme," he said.

"You drew it after the museum."

"I may need professional help."

Elliot turned over another receipt. On the back, Adrian had written: He laughed today. I want to hear it again tomorrow.

For once, Adrian didn't have a joke ready. He ran a finger along the faded ink.

"I meant that," he said.

"I know."

"I still do."

Elliot placed the receipt back in the box. "Then you don't need to recreate every date perfectly."

"I know," Adrian said. "But I like making new ones."

They decided their next outing would be Elliot's choice. He suggested an inexpensive outdoor art fair, followed by dinner at home.

Adrian started to offer a limousine, caught himself, and asked whether Elliot would prefer to drive. Elliot grinned at the correction.

"Look at you," he said. "Learning."

"I'm an excellent student when the teacher is handsome."

Elliot shook his head, smiling, and Adrian tucked the new receipt into the box alongside the old ones.

"Then will you fall in love with me again?"