Author's Note: Written for Porn Battle IX (Dressed to the Nines) over on DreamWidth. Prompt was: changes

"This changes everything," he heard Betty whisper.

Daniel turned his head to look at Betty lying next to him, her hair a tangled mess, her face flushed, her eyes staring at the ceiling as she held the covers to her chin. "What if it doesn't have to?" he asked softly.

She scoffed at him, but still couldn't look at him as she said, "Come on, Daniel."

He propped himself up on his elbows and said, "I'm serious. We're still Daniel and Betty. We've just… you know, seen each other naked."

"Exactly!"

"Exactly what?"

"How am I supposed to look at you after…" she gestured towards him with her hand, and just as she started to look towards him, she immediately turned her head back to the ceiling.

Daniel bit back a laugh and rolled his eyes. "You didn't seem to have any problems looking at me a few minutes ago."

"Daniel!" she slapped him on the arm and found the strength to look at him in indignation before she rolled over and turned her back to him.

He sighed and laid back down. He closed his eyes and let the events of the past year play in his head as he listened to her muttering "Oh god oh god" under her breath. Truth was, she was right. They couldn't go back to being just… whatever they were. Friends, coworkers, acquaintances, he wasn't even sure anymore. Betty was important to him. Too important to lose, which was probably why they had ended up in bed together. After Molly died, he had thought, "At least I still have Betty." That was the only thing that had kept him holding on. Through all of his pain, through all of his guilt, through all of his anger, he knew that Betty was there, that he didn't have to be alone, that he would never be alone as long as she existed in the world. Even when she became an editor, when he started seeing her less and less, when their conversations were rushed and they stopped confiding every little thing in each other, when he was no longer quite sure how to define what they were to each other, he still felt like she was his in some way, and he knew for a fact that he would always belong to her, whether she wanted him or not. But when they had gone months without saying anything to each other except for a quick hello as they passed each other in the hall, when he had to learn from Amanda that Betty was engaged to Matt, something in him had felt left behind. Like Betty had been living this entire life without a place for him in it. And so he called her, and they made it a point to have lunch together at least one day every week. Laughing with her, listening to her stories about her family, her drama with Matt and her job, listening to her scolding him for being insensitive, it was like coming home again. He hadn't even realized how much he had missed her. And when Matt felt the need to postpone the wedding and go back to Africa, Daniel was there for Betty. And when Matt came back from Africa with a new wife and a half-assed apology to Betty, Daniel was there to punch him in the face again. And when Betty felt the need to drown her sorrows in strawberry margaritas, Daniel made sure she didn't have to drink alone. And when she yanked him to her lips and kissed his face sloppily outside of the bar and whispered, "I need this," he took her to his apartment. And when their drunken haze started to lift as she had him pressed against the wall, one hand holding onto his hair and the other his tie, his own hands delighting in the curves of her behind, his bottom lip caught between her teeth, he mumbled, "Are you sure?" She looked into his eyes for a brief moment and moved a hand to caress his cheek, the affection in her gaze startlingly clear. He pulled her into a soft kiss then, and nothing had ever felt more right in his life.

Eventually they had made their way to the bedroom, kicked off their shoes and fumbled with belts and buttons and zippers, and… fell off the bed. Once. Or twice. And both times they had burst out laughing, Daniel burying his head in Betty's chest, gradually turning her laughter into moans. Betty was beautiful. In every way, she was wonderfully beautiful, and he tried to tell her that with every touch, every kiss, every time he whispered her name. Her hands had roamed his back, his hair, his arms, his chest, and everywhere she touched him he felt more alive than he ever had before. She made his heart race, she made him moan, she made him gasp, she made him lose his control and he finally buried himself inside her, and they worked together, seemed to read each other's minds with every movement, made each other complete without even meaning to.

Daniel had clung to Betty as they both were coming down from their climax, their breathing hard, their bodies sweaty, their foreheads pressed together. When Daniel's breathing returned to normal, he had opened his eyes and lifted up his head, and he smiled down at Betty as he brushed the hair out of her face. When her eyes opened, and he saw all the worry, the fear, his smile disappeared. And so he moved off of her and laid beside her, staring at the ceiling as he felt her pull the covers up to her chin.

"This changes everything," he heard Betty whisper.