(A/N Hello to anyone who's reading this…this is my first attempt at a fanfiction, so I would love to hear your thoughts on it, positive or negative! I know this has been done before, but here is my take on an extension of the scene on page 271 of the Madness Underneath by Maureen Johnson, if Callum did not walk in. Stephen/Rory.)

The two mad ones

For the first few seconds, he didn't move – he accepted the kiss like you might accept a spoonful of medicine. Then I heard it, a sigh, like he had finally set down a heavy weight.

I was pretty sure we were both kind of terrified, but I was completely sure that we were both doing this. We kissed slowly, very deliberately, coming together and then pulling apart and looking at each other. Then each kiss got longer, and then it didn't stop. Stephen put his hand just under the edge of my shirt, holding the spot where the scar was. Sometimes the skin around the scar got cold – now it was warm. Now it was alive.

Kissing Stephen was not like kissing Jerome. It was better. Our lips moved together in a way that somehow felt right, despite our uncertainty. There was no urgency, no fierce face-sucking like the way it was with Jerome. Time didn't seem to be occurring any more. Stephen smelt faintly of sweat and blood, his head wrapped in the makeshift bandage, his eyes tired…and yet, I felt more complete and together than I had in weeks. I felt safe. Whole.

I don't even know how long had passed. It could have been a minute, or possibly several seasons. When we finally broke apart, our eyes met and I couldn't look away. I just stared at him, and he stared at me. He had a strange look in his eyes, a flicker of something I had never seen in them before. I reached my hand up towards his face, and carefully touched his cheek. He froze, and I could hear his intake of breath. Breath? Breathing might be a good idea right now - I had sort of forgotten how to do that at this point. Right. Breathe, Rory.

Stephen's other hand found mine on his face and pulled it slowly back down onto the bed between us, but he hooked his fingers shyly around mine. His hand felt kind of clammy. "Rory…I…" He swallowed and closed his eyes briefly before meeting mine again "Are you sure you want to do this? …With me?" his eyebrows were creeping together, back to the position they most frequently assumed "I shouldn't–"

"Shhh!" I put my finger to his lips, silencing him "Stephen Dene, for a man who went to a boys only boarding school for most of his life and has to my knowledge never had a girlfriend or any kind of relationship, you are a damn good kisser" The corner of his mouth twitched, but he shook his head slightly. He brushed my finger away gently, and his eyebrows furrowed again "I…I'm no good for you, Rory, you don't want someone like me" he finally said, looking away, pushing his glasses up his nose. It was one of the few times I had seen him unsure of what to say.

"What if you are exactly what I do want?" I mumbled, and even as I said it I knew I was speaking the truth. I don't know how I never realised how much I needed him before. How I never realised how complete I felt when he was near me. We were two broken pieces, the two mad ones, that together somehow made a whole. Had he felt the same this whole time? Why was I only now realising that he had always been my silent protector in the shadows, how much he had risked for me? I looked down at our hands, still entwined even though he was looking away. There was a moment of silence where neither of us really knew what to say.

"Stephen?"

"Hmm?"

Before he could protest, I looped my hands around his neck and pulled myself close to him. He hesitated, before bringing his own arms around me. He held me tight. I held tighter. I buried my face into his chest and closed my eyes.

"Thank you for saving me" I whispered against his skin. It occurred to me that I meant it both physically and mentally. He wasn't much of a knight in shining armour – More a tired, young police officer who was (as Callum put it) a bit special sometimes. But that didn't matter to me. It had happened so gradually that I hadn't even noticed. But I was sure of it now, it was a clear pillar amongst the messes in my brain: I had fallen in love with Stephen Dene.

He lifted my chin up with two of his long fingers so he could meet my eyes again "You're welcome."