Disclaimer: Shakespeare, thank you for creating these two wonderful characters.
A/N: This takes place shortly after the events of the play have concluded.
A Sunlit Respite
The sun has started its decent. But it remains strong, as if it, too, does not want the day to end. The small stretch of sand behind Leonarto's villa is vacant, save a few gulls occasionally swooping to the sea's surface.
Laughter soon joins the calm mantra of the crashing waves. Two people run across the sand, occasionally catching each other's hands and spinning around. They're two adults: one a decorated soldier in the Prince's service, the other a refined lady of the manor.
But love has struck them this day, united forever before God and family. Their unexpectedly entwined destinies have softened them into dancing, merry youths-at-heart.
Beatrice kicks off her white sandals. The light breeze makes her diaphanous, seashell-hued dress float around her like a cloud. As pragmatic as she is, even Beatrice could not fathom being wedded while wearing mourning black. Her companion stares for a second, his face seemingly forever fixed in an expression of pure joy.
She laughs and spins, her red hair flying free of its chignon.
Benedick can bear the separation of three feet no longer and catches her mid-spin. His arms grab around her waist and he twirls her in the opposite direction. Their laughter floats away into the sea.
"My dearest Beatrice," he says, setting her down. "I see I am not alone in feeling like I could fly."
Normally scoffing at such poetic nonsense, Beatrice is nothing but elation. "Aye, my love." She casts a look behind her to the governor's villa before stepping a little closer in a conspiring stance. "And thank you for obliging me."
He grins. "And here I thought I was the one who wanted to be alone," he whispers, leaning closer and kissing her sweetly.
Beatrice's heart flutters in their embrace. The new sensations he has awakened both thrill and scare her. But he is gentle. Ending their kiss, he smiles.
Blushing under his adoring gaze, her fingers dance along the insignia upon his shoulder. "I would never confess to admiring your attire before. But I find your uniform suits you well. You look quite dashing."
He steps back, keeping her hands in his as their arms extend. "I will wear it daily if my lady wishes it," he vows.
"Oh, but then I shall tire of it."
His eyebrows rise. "And shall you tire of your husband?"
She doesn't think such a thing is possible. But she'd never admit to it. "Perhaps one day I will have to remind myself of your good parts," she says. His eyes sparkle as she pulls him closer. "But not today."
He leans in to kiss her again, but she laughs playfully and turns. He reaches out for her, but she has escaped, running ankle deep into the warm Tyrrhenian waters. A slightly larger wave envelopes her legs, making her dress darken and wrap around her shapely form. Benedick swallows. Surely God cannot be so kind to him as to grant him this vision for the rest of his days.
He discards his shoes and socks, eager to join her. When he nears, he sees fire in her eyes. She cradles his face within her hands and he leans down to meet his lips to hers. He is stunned at the passion in her. His arms wrap around her back, bringing her closer than ever before. Her light moan tickles his mouth. Tentatively, his tongue runs along her lips, and to his everlasting joy, she allows him in. He gently explores, finding her matching him in their little dance. She dips a little as her knees weaken, and he holds her to him firmly.
She gasps as they finally break apart. He smiles tenderly as his hands rest upon her hips, keeping her close. He rests his forehead against hers.
"In truth," she whispers, "do you really feel as you said earlier?"
"In what way?"
She blushes. "That you won't have a word said against marriage?"
He gathers a little of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. "I love being married to you."
She closes her eyes and sighs in pure bliss.
"And you? Do you still prefer to hear your dog barking at a crow than speeches of love?" he asks.
She looks up at him and smirks. "If my memory has not faltered, your declaration wasn't much better than a dog's howl."
He grins. Their merry war will never end, and the idea of their bantering future makes his heart beat faster.
But her mockery is quickly replaced by tenderness. "I can believe only one man when he says he loves me," she says.
His head dips closer. "And who might that be?"
"Oh, some poor jester I married."
Snorting, he leans down and kisses her again, finding themselves lost to everything but each other. Time seems to suspend, measured by the soft waves unfolding upon the shore.
The lovers are pulled from their isolated rapture by an upsurge of music. They turn to see the villa suddenly completely ablaze with lights.
Beatrice leans into him. "I suppose it will be bad form to miss the festivities in our honor."
"We can claim we thought they were for Hero and Claudio."
"My aunt will never forgive me," she mutters.
Benedick takes her hand in his and brings it to his lips. "To the ball, then my Lady?"
She rolls her eyes, but she cannot restrain her smile. Hand in hand, they walk back to the villa.
