Sorry for the delay. This month has been nuts! I'll be posting more regularly soon, I promise.

So. Much. Fluff.

Enjoy and comment :)

"Look, a full moon," Mary sat in the seat by the large window. The grounds looked like a painting illuminated by the ethereal light. "How late is it?"

Dickon scratched his head and craned his neck to see the clock, "It be ten after midnight." He sat in the spot next to her, looking out at the grounds.

Mary turned, looking at the profile of his face. Why had she never noticed how handsome he was before? A strong jaw and a bit of a point in his nose. Little dimples in his cheeks that appeared when he spoke and smiled.

He looked at her, returning the grin on her face, "Tha should get ta bed, Mistress Mary."

She ignored him and looked outside again, "What are the nights like in France?"

"Terrible," Dickon said after a moment. Stupid, Mary thought. I'm stupid to bring up the war. Tactless. "Tha're too afraid ta look at the sky for fear of what's there. And the cryin'. So much cryin'."

Mary placed a hand on his arm, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"One man in my battalion shot his own leg so he'd get ta go home," Dickon swallowed. "A course he said an enemy soldier did it and no one was tha wiser. I was tho'. I saw him do it." He paused and Mary swore he shook, "I never said anythin'. I didn't blame him."

Mary only nodded, wishing she hadn't said anything at all. Talking about war always brought out something cold in Dickon. A dark part of him she never saw any other time. It didn't even seem like him at all.

"I'm going to stay here," Mary decided, grasping his hand firmly. "So if you have night terrors I'll be here for you."

Dickon shook his head. There were tears shinning over his eyes, the white speckled with red, "No, Mary. Tha can't. We can't...share a bed. We aren't married. We can't."

"I won't sleep under the sheets," Mary stood up and towed him along. "It won't be anything. And no one will know. I'll go back early to my room."

Dickon still refused, "No. Mary...we can't."

"Well, I'm intent," She firmly crossed her arms, raising her brow to challenge him.

He leaned in and kissed her, something she wasn't expecting at all, "Mary, tha must go back ta thee's room. I'll be fine with jus' the thought that tha's room is near to mine."

Mary sighed, pursing her lips, "All right." She stood up, crossing her arms across her chest. "Goodnight then, Dickon." She raised her petite nose and promenades to the door. "I will see you in the morning."

He stood at attention, saluted and bowed properly, "G'night, Mistress Mary."

She couldn't help but smile.

When she reached her room, she felt some strange sadness inside of her. The thought of staying with Dickon had given her this wonderfully odd sense of rebellion. There was something else too. A sense of...longing. She didn't know what for but she knew it was something she shouldn't talk about. It was this ache inside of her that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it always had been and she'd just noticed it.

Either way, it excited and terrified her.

...

Breakfast was a dismal one.

Colin had hoarded up in his room for unknown reasons so it was only Mary, Dickon, and Uncle Archibald. It was terribly awkward. Mary had to be careful of her words and pray that Dickon did the same. The result was a bunch of dull chatter.

Dickon and Colin's leaving date was soon. Not many days now. Perhaps that's why Colin had stayed in his room. Perhaps he regretted enlisting.

Mary regretted it. It wasn't her's to regret but she did all the same.

Later she and Dickon went for a walk out to the far grounds. The sun beat down on them, making Mary feel uncomfortable in her ridiculous layered clothing.

"Dresses are so impractical," She lamented as the walked towards a thicket of trees. "I wish girls could wear trousers."

"I've see thee wear trousers b'fore," Dickon said.

"I mean out in society. If people ever found out what I wore for gardening is be a laughing stock. They expected us girls to be French paintings," Mary curtsied dramatically and held her arms up in a fanciful manner. "We must wear ball gowns while we garden and weed."

Dickon laughed, taking one of her hands in his. His hands were so large and tan and course. Hers were small and pale. They looked odd together. "Well, if anyone eva asks I'll be sure to tell them that thee gardens while dressed like Marie Antoinette."

Mary laced her fingers with his as they traveled deeper down their path of trees. "We should just stay here. It's nice here."

Dickon smirked, "I'll build us a house of wood and find us some berries."

"I could make us blankets and find some water."

"We'd be like Tarzan an' Jane."

Mary raised her eyebrows, "Marie Antoinette? Tarzan and Jane? Someone's been reading quite a lot." Teasingly she leaned in a bit closer to him.

He downcast his eyes, "Well, it's nice ta read. I don' get much of a chance ta read."

She squinted, not fully believing his tale, "Hmm." Backing away, Mary turned to look up at the tree canopy. "We should get to work on our home. It looks like rain."

Dickon reached for her hand again, "We won' feel it under our little roof."

"But it will still be there."

"True. But it goes away aft'r a while. Always does," Dickon tugged on her arm, turning her around to face him. Gingerly, he tucked a loose peace of hair behind her ear, "Tha looks lovely."

Mary smiled a bit, "Oh, Dickon, what are we going to do?"

"We're goin' to build our own little house."

She kissed him.