A/n: This, like Musings, will likely be written out of order and may end up getting moved around. But I got tired of waiting to be inspired to write a kiss in between this one and the last one. So here we are.

It was done.

Wide eyed and silent, she focused on little else beyond the thick band of his ring pressing against her fingers, and the gleaming circumference of her own as she rolled it with the tip of her thumb. She couldn't catch her breath.

He swung her around, laughed out loud and flashed his crooked teeth in an elated smile. As rare as it was, that grin was a sight dear to her heart.

The dark events unfolding at the big house — the flu and it's victims — encroached upon her thoughts and then dragged her back to Vera's death and the looming danger of the police investigation. She pushed it all from her mind and squeezed his fingers. "We have time before we need to be back to the bus stop, Mr. Bates," she whispered.

"We do," he rasped. "Did you have something in mind, Mrs. Bates?"

She stopped short and pulled his hand to her chest, held it over her heart and blinked back tears. "I was beginning to worry I would never hear those words directed at me."

When she recovered herself and cleared her throat, she ducked her chin over her shoulder, "It's terribly expensive, but there's a shop two streets over where a body can have their photograph taken."

He smiled and nodded enthusiastically. "I know the shop you mean, and I can think of no better way to spend my money."

"Our money; I brought a bit extra along that I've been saving for just the purpose."

He laced his gloved fingers in between hers and tugged her with him, setting off at a clip, that while uneven, was strong and proud. After a moment he began to hum absently.

He had wanted one of her alone, and she of him; the photographer suggested they take one in the daylight outside. They decided on another picture taken inside, Anna insisted he sit, and he had reluctantly agreed. She stood behind him one hand on his shoulder, the other teasing the hair at the back of his neck, until the photographer scowled and shook his head at them and told them to look at the camera and hold very still. The flash left their eyes watering, but neither of them seemed to care. Anna filled out the slip with their information, smiling with deep satisfaction as she wrote out Mr. & Mrs. John Bates in her precise script. She told the proprietor of the shop that she would walk down on her day off to collect them after they were developed. She hadn't wished to risk any damage in the post.

They walked aimlessly for a bit in the rough direction of the bus stop once they were finished. Both were loathe to end their momentous outing. Anna glanced at her new husband several times as they walked along a bank of hedges, before pulling him behind one, into the sheltering arms of an overgrown willow tree.

She hadn't expected him to be quite as enthusiastic as he was, had half supposed he would argue with her that they must still be careful, that no one was supposed to know. Instead he had wrapped his arms around her, lifted her feet off the ground and pushed her back against the rough bark of the tree. He kissed her beneath the privacy afforded them by untamed bows and spring leaves like they were alone in the world, like he had only ever kissed her a few times before. She hadn't expected it, but met him with fervor, accepted and challenged every motion of tongue and lips, teeth and hands. She gasped at the guttural sound he made against her; he was pressed so tightly to her, she could feel it rumble through her torso, could feel his hardness against her thigh. And then he set her down with a strange look on his face and straightened her hat.

After tucking stray strands of hair, he tugged the cloth of her skirt and bodice and smoothed the mussed parts, and kissed her once more, with his usual barely-there-tenderness. She watched him mutely, trying to calm her desire, shocked at the animalistic need that left her nearly panting with want.

He had bent awkwardly, gamy leg out to retrieve his discarded hat and cane. He had tossed them aside (she felt a mad pull inside of her as the thought formed itself,) to kiss her and touch her like that. She didn't think she would ever want him to stop touching her like that.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I ..."

She interrupted him straightaway, "I'm not. Since when is it a crime to kiss your wife?"

"Still, I ..."

She'd thrown a look at him, one pointed enough to silence him. He frowned and scrubbed his palm over his mouth.

"Mr. Bates," she said in a tone that brooked no argument. Her face softening immediately. "It's my wedding day and if I wish to sneak a bit of a snog behind a tree with my husband, I shall."

She leaned close to him. "Don't you ever apologize for kissing me like that." She dropped her voice to a whisper, shocked them both when she stepped even closer to him and brazenly cupped his swollen sex through the fabric of his trousers. She burned at the feel of him in her hand.

"I've wanted you like this for so long, Mr. Bates."

He bucked once against her and moaned out loud, and she felt a sense of wonder at what her touch could do to him.

"Anna!" He hissed her name through gritted teeth, before stepping away from her searching hands.

They had needed to stay behind the tree while he regained his composure, which was not at first helped by the cheekiness of Anna's rather inappropriate suggestion that she would be more than pleased to help take the matter in hand. The peal of laughter she let out at his answering look of panic did in fact help, but only just.

"What?" she had asked innocently, then fell back into laughter, unable to contain her mirth.