A/N: Well, here's another DennyxChelsea... I planned it to be shorter than it is because I figured my shorter one shots seem to turn out better (maybe.) But, okay. I still hope you like it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own harvest moon or any of it's characters or settings.

The sea melted into the sky; both deep, bright blue, vast, like a globe moulding over and into the land. The sky shimmered with clouds, almost like a glass window that a child was blowing blotches of condensation over. Denny hadn't been home for two days – two days too long – but he didn't have the courage to step beyond that door frame and meet her judging eyes.

Yet, he'd missed those eyes so much; gazing into them and seeing the new world he had taken up when he'd married her. It was a beautiful world full of luscious grass and chirping animals. And the long brown hair that surrounded those eyes – he'd missed that too. It was almost like it was made from the soft grains of oak wood, sweeping over delicate shoulders as the breeze took the trees to the air. Her skin, gentle, melting, like a milk river, soaking over ripples of land. He'd missed those things so much.

"Ugh~" Denny let out an exasperated sigh as he fell back against the sand, his body sinking, ever so slightly, into the sun's warm, golden dust. Hands fell behind his head, acting like a pillow as he blew his curly, brown locks out from his boring, brown eyes. His world seemed so much plainer than the one that belonged to his wife. His was of block colours; blue and brown and yellow. Nothing special.

But she'd always said she would see the curves and spirals of purple and green and turquoise in the plain, deep blue waters of Denny's world. And the sand wasn't just yellow and brown. It was orange too, and shimmering with gold and sparks like fireworks exploding against the sky of earth. That was another thing he missed about her; the way she just saw the best in everything.

Denny shut his eyes to the blinding sun as it burnt his dark skin. His black tank top was making him sweat in the Summer weather, the colour sucking in the shock of warmth. Fishing was supposed to be his escape from his thoughts this morning, but it only reminded him – yet again – of her. It was like, every part of his life was engraved with her name. Like the one thing he loved, the sea, had been etched with a beautifully, handwritten, Chel, at the beginning. Damn, he really did love her. And he needed her.

Dragging one of his hands from behind his head, Denny felt his forehead with the back of his hand and grimaced a little, feeling it was sticky with sweat. He hadn't caught a thing this morning. Too distracted, that's what he was. His mind was wandering, and letting fish take bite after bite from his tasteless bait without so much as a graze from the hook.

Groaning, Denny knew what he had to do. His world used to be full of life and bursting with colour, but now he'd stepped back one space and she was no longer there to let the fireworks explode. He needed to apologize, to talk to her. It had been two days, for goodness sake!

Scrambling up, He stretched his back muscles, rolling his shoulders back before heaving his legs off the sand and grabbing his fishing rod from the mould it had made in the beach – it had been laying there so long, he failed to recall the last time he'd used it that day.

"Right," Denny nodded, determined, but feeling as if his stomach was about to explode from nerves. Was he really ready to face her after their showdown? It wasn't like he'd kept calm through the whole thing and that he was completely innocent. He'd lost control.

"What do you mean, I'm useless?" Denny growled at his wife, glaring her down, finally losing his cool.

"I never said you were useless!" she barked back, tears streaming down her face and engraving her skin with the hurt he caused her – the hurt they'd caused each other. "I said that you don't ever help around the farm! Not even the house!"

"Well, I have a life too, you know! A job!" Denny gripped his hands into fists before tensing his back and forcing himself to face away from her. He couldn't believe he was saying these things to her face. But he couldn't control it any more. "I had a life before you!"

She'd let out a whimpering sob and he'd marched to the door, crushing through it and slamming it shut behind him. That image, that sound of her cry, was still niggling and replaying in his mind. He shouldn't have hurt her like that. He shouldn't have said those things, no matter what she had said back to him.

"Sorry, Chelsea," he murmured, regretting what he'd said to her that night two days ago for the thousandth time now. "I'm coming."

"It's okay, Denny," he heard a familiar, feminine and nervously welcome voice behind him. Turning around, he caught sight of her, in her shorts and yellow and orange shirts. She was like a silhouette brightening into colour against a stain-glass background of sapphire, emerald and gold. Her hair, brown, silky, was tied under a bandanna, matching his own purple one, but hers was red. A red he'd missed. Her figure was like a stream, water bubbling in curves and waves, sliding so delicately over her pale skin. And her face; her features – they looked at him, peering eyes and parted lips, as if she could break down in any minute, but could jump for joy and wrap her arms tightly around him.

"Chelsea..." Denny let his voice trail off as his brown eyes stared at her, bewildered and amazing at her timing and at, well... just her.

Chelsea nodded, seeming slightly uncomfortable or cautious and her fragile fingers laced together in front of her stomach. "I came to give you something," she murmured, her lips curling up in a nervous smile. Chelsea – she was never this drawn back from him.

Feeling the need to get closer to her, closer in her heart once again, Denny slipped his feet forward in the sand, drawing near to his wife's figure. He took her hand and suddenly felt how much she was shaking. Her deep eyes shot up to his and he could see the tears in her eyes – like those tears two days ago. The tears that kept streaming in his memory.

"Chelsea," he muttered, feeling slightly worried for what she might say. He held her soft hand in his, entwining his fingers with her. "Are you scared of me?" Denny prayed so hard that she wasn't. He would hate himself to know that all she wanted now was to be away from him. Maybe those two days had been a blessing for her – those two days without him.

"Goodness, no," she cried, suddenly wrapping warm and slender arms tight around his shoulders and pulling Denny's broad, muscled body into her own, gorgeous one. "I could never hate you." That was her murmur against his ear and Denny couldn't help but feel the smile grow on his face, his wife finally back in his life, his arms. He clutched onto her small waist, bringing her slim body into a tight embrace and felt the tears from her eyes drip onto his bare shoulder.

"Chelsea," he had to say again, finally letting go. "I'm sorry for what I said." His stomach nervous and uneasy as the time to apologize had arrived. But that smile was still present on his lips when he caught sight of her willing eyes. "I didn't mean it," his voice trailed on, keeping his hands holding Chelsea's. "You know my life was so much better when I met you."

A grin swept over Chelsea's and before he could say any more, her hands had slid away from his and had cupped his face, pulling him down as she tiptoed up to kiss him. He hadn't realised he'd missed her kiss too. The taste of her lips, the way she smelled when she was this close to him. He really had missed her so much.

But the kiss ended abruptly as she pulled away and smiled broadly, her nose pressing against his gently with her hands still cupping his face. Her palms seemed so soft when she was holding them against his cheeks. He hadn't noticed how much like silk they really were.

"So, everything's okay?" Denny asked, sounding and feeling relieved. She nodded happily and pulled him into another hug. Grinning now, he blew gently against her bandanna covered hair and took in the moment the moment.

"Oh," he almost forget, pulling away slightly but his hands rested on her forearms, gently. "You said you brought me something."

"I already gave it to you," Chelsea laughed, proudly while Denny looked bemused, blinking at her. She smirked and leaned up to his ear to whisper the secret, "The kiss."

Denny laughed with her. "Oh, you," he smiled widely, feeling so much more comfortable and free in her company. "Well, it was a very nice gift."

"I knew you'd like it," she squeezed him before taking his hand as they headed back home – their home.

And as their bodies faded away from the beach towards the farm, their chirping, loving, friendly voices floated off into the air with them;

"You know, since I've been away," Denny's voice was grinning in the distance. "I think I lost my sense of humour. So I'm going to have to practice some jokes again."

"Go on," Chelsea laughed.

"Okay," Denny chuckled with her. "What did the boy fish say to his girlfriend?"

"I don't know. What did the boy fish say to his girlfriend?"

"'Your plaice or mine?'!"

Chelsea burst out into giggles. "Oh, you," her voice smiled. "I'm glad your back."

"I'm glad I'm back too."

That's what Denny had missed the most about Chelsea. Not her laugh, or the way she could tolerate his rubbish jokes. What he'd really missed was far more important to him – her company.

And he wouldn't let it go again.