A/N: FINALLY, I am posting this. The idea's only been here for four years. It got re-jump-started by number nine of my first round of "ten songs, ten drabbles." It won't look like that for a long, long time, but yeah...that's why I picked this up again. I've been dying to mess with Gilan for a while, even though Halt is my one true love.

Normally, I wouldn't post this until I had more of it written, but it's kind of a "blah" rainy day and I guess everyone else probably wants something to keep them occupied (assuming that this gloomy rain spreads further than my location).

Oh yeah, I now made a forum for Ranger Corps: Men In Cloaks! :D :D There's a challenge up; I'd love to see everyone's responses to it. :) There's also a community, so stories can be posted there. :)

Also, the title of this story is Italian for "dark eyes, light eyes." Hopefully you'll begin to understand that better once the story progresses.

Yeah, that's all the rambling I've got for today, haha.

I do not own Ranger's Apprentice, no matter how many fanfictions I write. :P

It was a bright July day in the village of Caraway. Children played in the streets, chasing one another in their game of tag. "Gotcha, Shirina!" cried a small, pale girl with fair hair.

"Not fair! I'm always it. Can we play something else?" Shirina wheedled. She wasn't very good at running-she'd rather be playing something that involved a little more imagination.

"You're so boring, Shirina," John, another member of the group, lamented. "Fine. We'll play Defiance…as soon as Gilan gets back."

John was, in his mind, the leader of the children. He was a year or so older than most of them and had taken on the role of being in charge. However, most of the children didn't actually like him or his "leadership," so they'd unofficially accepted Gilan as their leader.

A few moments later Gilan ran up to the group, breathing heavily. "Finally," John groaned. "We're playing Defiance and we've been waiting for you to get here forever."

"John," Annabell, one of the younger members of the group said, drawing out his name. "It's only been two seconds!"

Ignoring her, John continued, "Since you made us wait, you can go first. I'll tell you what to do."

Gilan bit the inside of his lip. John had been a good friend until he'd begun to be threatened by everyone who wanted to have a say in what the children did. He was almost a bully. "Go ahead," Gilan said, the slightest hint of a challenge in his tone.

"Kiss Shirina. For twenty seconds."

John's eyes bored into Gilan's, challenging him to act on the dare. Gilan took a step towards Shirina and stood in front of her for a moment, unmoving.

The children began to chant: "Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!"

"Do you mind?" Gilan asked Shirina.

"Mind what?" she asked.

"If I kiss you, I won't do it unless you say I can," he muttered through his teeth.

"Do it," Shirina consented - she wasn't going to let her best friend be taunted for the rest of his life just because she'd been too afraid.

In a few seconds' time, Gilan took a step closer to Shirina, looked her in the eyes, and touched his lips to hers. The group began counting.

"Twenty...nineteen...eighteen...seventeen..."

Shirina and Gilan met eyes-an easy thing to do, considering how close they were to one another. They both wanted it just to be done - they'd been standing here for so long.

"...eleven...ten...nine...eight..."

This is just boring, Gilan thought. Why does everyone make such a big deal out of it?

"...four...three...two...ONE!"

Hoots rang through the crowd of children as Gilan and Shirina's lips moved apart. "Now you have to marry her!" a child informed Gilan.

"It looks different when my mommy and daddy do it," a girl remarked, thinking. "Maybe you did it wrong."

Both Shirina and Gilan were blushing so fantastically that it was entirely possible that they'd developed two completely new shades of burgundy.

The children began chanting again.

"Gilan and Shirina sittin' in a tree—K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage!"

"Rina," Gilan told Shirina as they walked back home for dinner, "I'm never kissing you again."

"I'm not letting you kiss me again," she replied, wiping her mouth on her arm. "Your mouth is all...wet."

"Well, so was yours!" he objected.

"Maybe that's how they all are," Shirina mused.

After a moment of thought, Gilan remarked, "Forget it. I'm never kissing anyone again."

"Me neither!" Shirina professed steadfastly.

They walked in silence for a moment before Shirina asked in a small voice, "Gil?"

Gilan looked at her, letting her know that she had his attention.

"My mother told me that kissing is what married people do," Shirina pointed out. "Gil, I don't want to marry you! You're my friend! We can't be married! That's so weird!"

"Just don't tell anyone, Rina. If no one knows, they won't make us get married," Gilan reasoned. "See you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" Shirina called as she and Gilan went to their respective homes.

Shirina skipped into the front door of the Scribeschool - both of her parents worked there and she'd lived in their rooms in one of the upper floors of the Caraway Scribeschool for her whole life. She opened the door and walked inside, only to hear her older sister singing a very familiar song...

"Gilan and Shirina, sitting in a tree-K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Liz!" Shirina cried! "Shut up! I'm not marrying Gilan just because you're shouting that we...you know..."

"Shirina Yaron, what have your mother and I told you about 'shut up?'"

Shirina sighed before reciting, "It's a terrible-sounding word, the most crass and base form of language that is only excusable in the raging inferno of deep anger."

Her father looked at her, satisfied, but Shirina continued in monotone, "If you keep using that kind of language, young lady, you'll never be accepted into Scribeschool because it is completely and totally unacceptable for a person of education to speak in that fashion."

"Rina," her father warned her. "Don't mock."

"Yes, Father," she replied.

"Now what's this I hear about you and Gilan kissing?" he inquired.

Shirina missed her father's grin and the slight hint of laughter in his voice. "Oh, Daddy, please don't make me marry Gil! It was only Defiance and I didn't want him to look scared and I really don't want to kiss him again! And we're friends, so I can't be married to him and be his friend!" she pleaded, pulling on her father's arm.

Shirina's mother walked into the room, laughing softly. "Don't worry, Rina - you won't be getting married for a very long while," her mother reassured her.

She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that her friendship with Gilan was safe. She was so grateful for her parents-they were normally so strict, but at least they'd allowed her to kiss Gilan once without marrying him.

The next day, once their lessons were done, Gilan and Shirina met in between the Scribeschool and the Battleschool, as they did every day, yesterday's kiss completely forgotten. They chattered, as children often do, before they reached the square where all the children played. Upon Gilan and Shirina's arrival, they children sang:

"Gilan and Shirina, sittin' in a tree-K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage!"

Shirina blushed as Gilan groaned. They figured that they wouldn't be able to escape this rhyme for a very, very long time.