[I haven't written anything Demily in a while, so here you go(:

This was inspired my the song 'Make you feel my love', by Adele.

Enjoy :)]

"Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain"- Unknown

You pull your car into the deserted parking lot, glancing into the windows of the bar. But you don't see her. You begin to get worried as you glance down at your phone, at the text she had sent you just fifteen minutes earlier.

You debate calling Penelope again, asking her if she was sure this was where she tracked Emily's phone to. But then, you spot her.

She is sitting across the street, on one of the benches near the playground, her umbrella long abandoned by her feet. She just sits there, letting the rain fall onto her face.

You want to go get her, but you don't. You decide to give her some time. Looking down at your phone again, you see the message from her, like so many others before. This had become a pattern for you and her, and you don't think she will stop any time soon. But you won't either. Because you would do anything for her, anything to make her trust you, to give you a chance.

You watch as she lifts her head up, just as the rain starts to fall harder.

Again, it takes all your self-control not to go out there and get her, and wrap her in your arms just like every other night. But you want this night to be different.

Every time, you would come find her at whatever dingy bar she'd chosen that night, and ignore her slurring as you nodded to the bartender and practically carried her to the car. Then, you would drive her home and settle her into her bed, murmuring a good night.

Sometimes, you would even stay. Just for a couple minutes, to watch her sleep. It was rare that you ever got to see her so peaceful.

And then you would leave, promising yourself that this was the last time, when you knew all too well that it wouldn't be. The truth is, you would do anything to show her how much you love her.

You know she knows. You had told her, not outright, of course, but in that effortless language the two of you share. And she hadn't given you an answer yet.

You understand that she hasn't made her mind up yet. You know what she's been through; how hard it is for her to let someone in. But you wonder if she knows that you would never hurt her, that you would never leave.

So you guess you've been trying to prove just that to her with these late-night encounters, and truthfully, you don't know if you're getting anywhere. But you have to hope, that somewhere, she knows how much you care. She does know you, probably better than anyone else.

And she's good enough to wait for. You know that; you've been waiting for five years.

From the moment you saw her in the conference room for the first time, you knew she belonged in your arms. Maybe it was when she told you about her date that time; when she told you she loved Kurt Vonnegut. Or maybe it was when the two of you first got partnered up, and you got to see her in the field, so driven and fierce and sensitive at the same time. Anyhow, you've known for years. You've just been waiting for her to be ready. And truthfully, you know you'll wait forever if that's what it takes.

You'll die for her, if that's what it takes, too.

You know you would do anything, and it scares you. Being so completely in love with one person would scare anyone, especially you. You, the commitment-phobe, are in love, and trying to force someone into a relationship. How painfully ironic.

But you know it's true. Unbeknownst to the team, you haven't had a girlfriend in five years. Yes, you've had occasional one-night stands, but nothing serious, not since you met her.

And you've been patiently waiting. But tonight, you want things to change. You don't want to push her into anything, but you have to tell her how much she means to you. She has to know.

You can't help hoping that something will change when you tell her. That maybe she'll miraculously tell you she loves you too. But this isn't a perfect world, there are no happy endings, as much as you wish there were.

So you get out of the car slowly, and cross the street to the playground. By the time you're there, you're already soaked to the bone, but you don't care.

As you get closer, you see Emily's face, her makeup running down her cheeks in streams. You see the rain and tears mixing into a smudged mess on her face. But to you, she has never looked more beautiful.

You stand, not more than a foot away from her, watching her look at the sky. You don't know how drunk she is, but you assume the worst. Finally, you gather up the courage to say something.

"Why do you keep doing this?", you ask, as she runs her hands through her hair, plopping down on the bench.

She looks, with empty eyes, at the playground, which somehow seems dreary and sad in the rain.

"Why do you keep coming?", she says quietly.

Her words echo in your head though, as you search for the answer. But somehow, no words you think of sum up what you're feeling. You don't have an answer for her. So you just sit down on the bench next to her, shrugging your shoulders.

A moment passes, neither of you saying anything.

"God, I'm an idiot, aren't I?", she says out of the blue, and you start to think she's more drunk than you originally thought.

"What are you talking about?", you say, as she stands up again.

"You – you've been here every time I needed you, you've picked me up and took care of me, you told me that you wanted to be with me, but I was scared. Now I'm here, getting drunk, feeling sorry for myself, when I've got a chance in happiness standing next to me every day!", she rants. It doesn't look like she plans on stopping, so you get up and pull her into a hug.

You're surprised at her words though. She'd known, you can't help thinking. This whole time, she'd known how much you cared for her, but she hadn't given you an answer. Part of you is angry at her, but you know how high her walls are built. Those seemingly unbreakable walls she'd built around her heart god-knows-how long ago. You understand how hard it is for her to trust someone, you're the same way.

After a while, she pulls her head off your chest, and looks up at you.

"Does the offer still stand?", she asks. You're dazed at the question. Is she saying what you think she is? You see her face moving closer to yours, your eyes fixed on her lips, which seem to be getting closer to yours every second, and you know you're right.

The rational part of you is screaming to pull away. Because she's drunk, and before you hope for anything, definitely before you kiss her, you have to make sure this is what she wants. You have to know that this won't be just some drunken mistake that she won't remember tomorrow.

But that rationale all goes out the window as her lips meet yours. Is it so wrong, you think, for you to have at least one night?

She tastes of whiskey and gum, and you're convinced it's the best kiss you've ever had. The way she's kissing you right now, she has to means this. Maybe she's been wanting this too.

And as you stand there, a thought crosses your mind: What a perfect first kiss, in the rain, just like in the movies. Except for the fact that what the two of you are doing is completely wrong, she's drunk, and you're hoping this will last until tomorrow.

But, somehow, it seems perfect to you.

[Leave me a review? They make my day ;D]