A/N: Shh, I'm meant to be sleeping! It's nearly Ten O'Clock here! ; ) Seriously, though, I have completely life-choosing exams on Wednesday and have done absolutely no revision for it, since I've been writing this.
It gave me a little trouble, but just a little. I wrote half of it last night and ran out of inspiration. I found some again, though! Probably only because it's set in Summer, and it's definitely not sunny here in little ol' UK.
Disclaimer: A wise person once told me that apologies are a sign of weakness. Sorry, not mine. *damn*
The sun beats down on her face, making her hum appreciatively and tilt her head slightly. Her toes curl deeply into the grass and the blades prickle lightly against her skin. She digs her hands deeper into the fabric, grinding the blanket further into the ground, as she feels him shift behind her. A moan of protest escapes her lips as her position alters and she finds it necessary to sit up and rest against his chest. He has no reason to object to this, and only pulls her a little closer as she attempts to get comfortable again. She hears him shush her annoyed little groans, and she lets her head lull back and fall against him.
"You're doing it again..." she tells him in an all-knowing voice as she feels him bury his face in her hair; rather a habit of his. Turning her eyes skyward as she feels him move, she narrows her eyes as the glaring light hits her. The sun is seemingly pulsating in the sky, burning down onto the poor defenceless globe and the poor defenceless couple below. Although, she thinks, it's probably snowing somewhere on the Earth.
She looks to her left and the movement attracts his attention. The light is dancing off her skin; swimming in her eyes and pooling on her cheeks. Her lips are parted slightly as she breathes in and out steadily, through the immense heat. And when he feels the sudden urge to reach out and run his thumb along her jaw for no reason at all, he notes how a shudder runs down her and her eyes flutter half-shut.
A little later, they're in the same position and his legs have decided to fall asleep. Talking of asleep, she appears to have dozed off too, if the little snores he can hear, along with steady breathing and little vibrations across his chest are anything to go by. And sure enough, when he takes a hold of her un-moving hand resting by her thigh, nothing changes to signify she acknowledges the action. So he just keeps her hand in his in a way he's done before, the sun still roasting them.
When she wakes up, he squeezes her hand and the grin that spreads like wildfire across her face is enough to form a mental note in his head to hold her hand more often. They decide to eat after no deliberation, and the food and the wine and the laughter make both of their chests pang with happiness and something more; a combination they both proudly admit to having experienced.
After they pack everything away and shove it into the trunk of his car, he decides to take a walk with her.
The sun is just setting in the sky, a soft pink and orange glow emanating from the once-fiery sun. The light skims across the water on the river next to them and casts dancing figures on the faces of all who look. And he realises how perfect it is; how perfect she is. Because it's calm and peaceful and wonderfully simple- this life. No unnecessary complications, no regrets, nothing left unsaid. Ah, things have been left unsaid. So he slows the pace of their already idle walking and eventually they stop altogether. She turns to face him and the light is doing entirely different things to her face than it was before.
It's bathing her in a soft glow, rounding off the edges until she seems so pure. It's illuminating her features, defining every shadow until it seems she's the one giving off the light, not the sun. It gives her an essence of being untainted, of being coated in childlike happiness, of being free. And he reaches out and caresses her face in a way that he hasn't done before but he knows he should have. When he says her name, it comes out no more than a whisper and his voice cracks as unexplainable tears form, yet to spill. The smile she gives him makes his stomach do Double-Dutch, a distinct unknown weakness prevailing in her surrender to him. Then, he knows he has to say it. So he does, and she repeats the words with that same smile of submission on her face.
When their lips meet, it's the most gentle kiss he's ever given her; ever given anybody, for that matter. He pulls back and utters a laugh of disbelief at his words, then holds her face in both his hands and kisses her again. It's more passionate and deep, but still appropriate and not overwhelming. That can be saved for later. For now, though, he simply takes her hand and they head back to their apartment, the sun setting and the moon making the river glint this time.