Hercules slammed the long, wooden door open with one hand, holding Meg's waist close to his body. They were soaked from the rain and glad to finally make it into Hercules' home. He pulled her inside, desperately closing the door behind him. She was unable to support herself on her injured ankles, and she collapsed in his arms. As she winced, Hercules gingerly laid her on the floor on her back. He left her to rummage through his cabinets and shelves. The room was dark and only lit by a large, roaring fire place. Faint outlines of marble statues, vases, and colorful portraits were shown in around the room. It was more romantic than Meg would have thought it would be: shadows flickering on the artwork, the sound of fire crackling, the comforting warmth after being soaking wet, and being all alone with her muscled savior. Stumbling for bandages Hercules kept in a drawer, he rushed back to the injured woman. The hero knelt on his knees at her feet, placing the bandages on the tiled floor next to him. Her wet skirt clung to her legs, hiding her sprained ankles underneath. It was clear that one ankle was far worse than the other.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry," He softly said, afraid even a loud voice could further hurt her.

"Relax. It was just a fall. I'm fine. I doesn't even hurt... Ow, ow, ow!" She rasped weakly, as he touched a sore spot on her ankle. He hurriedly unlaced her Grecian sandals, sliding the moist leather shoe off more roughly than he intended. He held her bare foot, studying it like she was a doll he had broken. Calmly watching beads of water drip off of his damp, waved hair, Meg sighed.

She continued, ashamed she was caught in her lie, "Okay, it hurts a little. No big deal. I might be a damsel in distress, but I can handle myself, remember?"

"Hold still," he silenced her, as he wrapped the white cloth tightly around her ankle to stop the swelling. Without warning, he lifted her leg higher, causing her long, purple skirt to pool at her hips. Luckily, her undergarments were still covered by her newly crumpled skirt. His large hands slid up her legs delicately, pausing when he reached her knee. He studied her sensitive skin for more injuries, accidentally tickling her along the way. Meg bit her pink lip to keep herself from giggling. Her tiny fists rested next to her shoulders, waiting for him to discover that she was in good health, so she could finally get off of the floor. The hero slid his strong hands along the inside of her thigh, careful of his grip, while the other hand propped up the back of her knee in the air. Although she knew he was just checking for injuries, Meg's eyes widened at the intimacy of the act. Finding a few more bruises, he elevated her leg higher to get a better look. His fingers danced on her milky, white skin. Her cheeks grew red at the sensation and the alluring, focused look in his eyes. Even the gods had come to know how he overly innocent he truly was. He had no idea of what his touch was doing to her. He'd never pushed her skirts up before, exposing her skin in a risque manner. Despite knowing it wasn't intentional, the act of him feeling her legs was more sensual than she was prepared for. She tugged on her leg, unable to get it free from his clutch. His over protective blue eyes still scanning.

"Herc!" She gasped, pushing her skirt higher up her legs. Realizing the compromising position her put her in, he immediately dropped her leg, and she let it float in the air where he left it.

"Sorry, I-I didn't notice that I, uh..." He blushed, looking to the side nervously. Meg provocatively titled his face back towards her with her dainty, bandaged foot, squishing his cheek in the process. Her skin still smelt of the jasmine flower soap she had used in her bath with that morning.

"You need to stop worrying about me so much," she laughed. Meg lowered her leg back down. He playfully crawled on top of her, placing his hands in the space above her shoulders. With him laying on her, he was much heavier than he'd realized. Knowing it'd make him afraid that he crushed her, she decided not to complain. The fire light gave her a clear view of his blushed cheeks.

"I'm not over reacting. You've had too many near death experiences, and one actual death. I just don't want to lose you again," he whispered. The redhead lowered his face, resting his forehead against hers, causing her heart to race at the closeness.

"I'm tougher than I look, Wonder Boy." She breathed, "And, I'm not going anywhere." With that comment, he tenderly pressed his lips to hers. Meg's arms fell limp at her sides, as her black eyelashes fluttered shut. He was still inexperienced with kissing, and she was determined to change that since their relationship had started. At least, he wasn't too shy to pursue her. It used to take excessive flirting from Meg to get him to make any move. His kiss deepened, pressing into her more dominantly than usual. If she wasn't trapped underneath him, she would have let her hips rhythmically move against his. Feeling bold, she slid her tongue between his lips, forcing his mouth open. A muffled, confused noise escaped him. He was unaware that using your tongue was something people could do when kissing. Unsure and curious, he timidly met her prodding, slippery tongue with his. Only the sound of their heavy breathing and crackling fire echoed in the room. She could taste the sweet, Greek wine he'd sipped earlier. She wished she wasn't pinned down, so she could lean into the source: him. She involuntarily squeaked a moaned, realizing he was even better at the new trick than herself. Mistaking her aroused whimper for one of pain, he prematurely broke their kiss.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked.

"What? No, you didn't do anything wrong. I was just...Well..." Meg panted, still recovering from the passion he sparked in her. She was at a lost for words, unsure of how exactly to explain why she moaned. With his extreme strength, he made it a habit to check that he hadn't harmed her. Suddenly, the booming of thunder sounded through the walls. Both of them had forgotten that it was storming outside. She made a move to reach to him for safety and paused when she realized he was already close to her.

She jested, "I guess your old man doesn't approve." He rolled off of her, laying next to her. He tilted his head to the side to find her gazing at him lovingly. Years ago, she wouldn't have believed she'd ever be in love again. It was hard to put down her guard, but one day, she just let it go. Although she trusted him, the idea of completely falling for him made her anxious. Last time she'd gotten this close to a man, her heart was broken. This moment with her clumsy, wet boyfriend laying next to her on the floor felt different. She felt safe with him, and it wasn't just because of his strength.

"I'm in love with you," Meg confessed spontaneously. She knew it was obvious enough that she loved him, but it felt more real to say it out loud. He smiled from the corner of his mouth.

"Then marry me." He propped himself on his elbow, smoothly. The fire light gave his hair a heavenly glow that she couldn't tear her eyes from.

"Wait, what?" She questioned. "Are you serious?" She'd never imagined a wedding would be in her future so soon. The wedding details that often occupied a girl's mind never once entered hers. What would her dress look like? Would she want to invite a lot of people? Would gods invite themselves to it?

"Of course I'm serious. I love you."

"I love you, too," she smiled. "I'll marry you." She twiddled her thumbs nervously, thinking about finally having this honest, caring man as a husband. In his excitement, he leaned down to kiss her again, but this time, as her fiance.