Hey there!

So, after Christmas week, it feels weird to be back on schedule, right? Or are we the only ones? We enjoyed so much reading all your reviews over the past week, you can't imagine. We're also so glad you're getting the hang of the slow burn... and how it's important in this story.

For now... let's put on some music and start the last chapter of the year!

-It don't matter - Donavon Frankenreiter

-Isn't She So Lovely - Milos Foreman

-Mind Trick - Jamie Cullum

-Intentions - The Whitest Boy Alive

-Scrabble - René Costy and his Orchestra

-Don't Wait Too Long - Madeleine Peyroux

-I Was Lost Until I Met You - sad boy with a laptop

-In the Waiting Line - Zero 7 and Sophie Barker

-Better Together - Jack Johnson

Chapter 13

"So, what do you say? Want to come? They're dying to meet you," he said. Fred had written to him to invite him for dinner. Ella missed him and reopening was official. First stage, anyway, but that meant they could do a small social circle and keep within its boundaries. And they had insisted he brought Anne. He wanted to see Bear as well. "And it's a way to get out. We could go for a walk or something before, maybe a park or the lake? And then dinner."

"I don't know, Gil… I don't want to give the wrong idea," she said as she folded yet another blanket of the fort they were dismantling.

"What would be the wrong idea, exactly?" he asked, curious, as he folded a throw. She flushed. "Anne, Fred is my best friend for many, many years. There's nothing to hide with him. Think of him as Cole or Diana. He's been there all along," he explained. She flushed some more.

"Oh, great," she answered, thinking of the implications. "So…"

"They're dying to meet you. Honest. They're more on your side than anything, they're not judging you. Fred and Ella have been there since Uni so they know about the whole mess we have been through, there's no need to explain anything. You can be yourself," he insisted.

"I'm not sure…" she said.

"Look, if you don't believe me," he insisted, taking his phone from his back pocket and opening the conversation with Fred to show it to her.

**Fred (13:05): Dinner tonight? Ella will die if she doesn't see you now that it's allowed and I only want to meet mythical Anne so I can tease you with her. Bear wants to see his best friend.

**Fred (13:06): We'll make pasta! No meat at all, of course. I'm cooking so it will be edible.

**Fred (13:06): Say yes?

"What does it even mean, mythical Anne?" Anne asked, confused.

"Just the way he refers to you. Imagine hearing about someone for ten straight years without seeing them. He thinks you're the stuff legends are made of and can't wait to meet you. Come, please?" he asked again. Anne considered her options for a second. He did sound nice. At least from the few texts she read.

"Ok… If you say there's going to be no explaining to do," she said.

"Explaining? About us? Nothing. I'll have his head if he pushes. That easy," he answered, piling the throws to put back in the closet. "So yes?"

"Yes, Gilbert. As your friend."

"Of course."

**Gilbert Blythe (13:29): We're going. Tone it down or you'll not live to tell it. Almost didn't convince her. Should we bring something?

**Fred (13:30): Doing a happy dance around here. Don't worry about anything, we'll take care of it. Enjoy the day with your girl, we'll see you around seven-ish?

**Gilbert Blythe (13:30): Gotcha. Thanks.

"Anne, honestly, it's an informal dinner with friends. We're maybe going to play a boardgame and that'll be it, there's no need to be nervous," he tried relaxing her as they went out of the car and walked towards the front door of Fred and Ella's house. She was ridiculously handsome in an effortless, Anne way. A flowy dress she dug out of one of her boxes because weather was finally agreeing with it and she was going out, she had put on some very light makeup Gilbert was sure she never needed, and had done a couple of braids she had pinned on the nape of her neck. She was perfect. But still, she was nervous as if she was going to a job interview.

"Still! It's the first time ever I meet a friend of yours outside of school," she said. What had Gilbert told them? What kind of idea could they have about her? What if she didn't live up to their expectations? What if she, as always, screwed up somehow?

"Stop being so insecure. They already love you," he confessed as they got to the threshold.

"How can you be so sure?" she asked.

"Because the only reference they have about you comes from Diana, Jerry and me, and believe me, we all love you. So relax, ok? It's not a test and the banana bread was completely unnecessary," he insisted as they walked over to the porch.

"Marilla would come back from the dead if I went to a dinner empty handed. As much as I would love to see her again, it would not do if the reason was to get a good scolding," she insisted, flattening the wax paper she had used to wrap the loaf.

"You're hopeless. Here we go," he said, ringing the bell. Anne sighed, still tense. The door opened after a few seconds, a huge Newfoundland dog appearing before anyone else.

"Bear, buddy!" Gilbert greeted the dog, forgetting about anything else. He had missed his huge furriness.

"Anne! You must be Anne! You really are the stuff fairy tales are made of, so happy to meet you!" Fred didn't pay any attention to Gilbert, who was too engrossed with Bear. Anne blinked, confused. "I'm Fred, by the way. My gosh, I understand Blythe now. Come in, come in, let's leave these two to fend for themselves," he insisted. Anne smiled at him and followed him inside, kicking off her flats and leaving them by the door.

"Nice to meet you, Fred… I'm sorry, I have to confess I didn't know you existed until a couple of hours ago," she said, a bit uncomfortable by the exuberant greeting.

"What?! Blythe, you wound me! I'm just about the only friend he made in uni, he was such a mess back then," he called his friend in a mock wounded voice, who was just now coming inside. Bear turned to greet Anne, who kneeled down to pet him and ended up covered in wet, sloppy dog kisses as she laughed. "Hey, Ella! Come meet Anne! Finally!"

Ella appeared, drying her hands in a teatowel, all smiles.

"Don't tell me you were cooking," said Gilbert, jokingly apprehensive, as he saw her approach and Anne was still being covered in wet kisses from Bear.

"Don't be a prat! Of course not, I only washed the pots! Anne, so nice to finally meet you! Come in, don't stay there on the door… Bear, come boy, stop it!" Anne stood up smiling, more relaxed after the dog made it evident she at least had a real friend there.

"Oh, this is for you, thank you for the invitation," she said, extending the banana bread she had successfully protected from Bear. Fred received the package wide eyes as they went to the living room.

"Nooooo" he exclaimed, not believing it. "Is this what I believe? I'm finally… Oh, it smells divine! Love, you have to ask Anne for tips, she does know how to cook..."

"I keep trying all these recipes, you see, but I'm dreadful at cooking…" Ella explained to Anne. "So when we have visits, he's in charge. Don't worry. You won't die tonight from poisoning," she winked, and Anne laughed. "So, what do you want to drink? I take it the doc here will drive, so you're free to drink whatever you want. Ask away."

"She does have a full bar, Anne. I'd take advantage," Gilbert said from the floor where he was playing with Bear with a rope. Anne felt a bit at a loss. She was not big on drinking, not after that blackout years ago, and she definitely was never going to drink in Gilbert's presence ever again. Only the subject hadn't come out in the months she'd been living with Gilbert. They never drank anything. Well, he did, sometimes. A cider.

"Just maybe a juice or a water? I'd rather not drink..." she explained. Fred looked at Gilbert, who made a small gesture meaning he had no idea, and Anne flushed.

"Let's leave these two boys. Come! I have the nicest sparkling waters, you can get your pick," Ella said, trying to divert the attention. "And we can get appetizers. I'm ravenous and Fred wouldn't let me eat anything."

"What's that with drinking?" Fred asked Gilbert in a low voice. "We're not trying to get her drunk, but she seemed awfully uncomfortable."

"No idea. I just realized I'm the only one who touches the cider at my place," he said, at a loss. As far as he remembered, she wasn't one to restrain. At least not until graduation, he didn't know after… Oh . "Fuck. I think I know where that comes from. Let's ignore this subject the whole night? Please?"

"As you wish, Blythe, but you'll have to explain another day. She does seem like a fairy. You didn't even do her any justice and that's saying something. Bear loved her and you know he's still squeamish after being rescued from that horrible house. And she brought us banana bread, so she already won our hearts. You're done here, we're team Anne," Gilbert laughed. Fred called louder. "Anne! I'm on your team! Blythe here is going down whenever you need it! I know all his dirty secrets!"

She appeared on the door with Ella.

"Oh, you only know half. I know the ones from his younger years," she said, mischief in her face. Gilbert shook his head. He was not so sure about the whole dinner anymore. They sat down to chat for a while, both Ella and Fred mesmerized by Anne, who was actually having a good time. She liked them. It wouldn't be like Gilbert to befriend a horrible person, but she was a bit wary before coming. Bear established himself in between her and Gilbert, occupying most of the sofa, and she just hugged him. She'd love to have a dog someday.

"So, do you want to eat at the table? It's all set up, but I feel like everyone is comfortable here," Ella asked. "I could bring plates and everything."

"Sounds good, but Bear won't go mental?" Anne asked.

"Oh, no. He's not much into food. He'll probably just go when he smells it. Bad experiences. He only eats one kind of dog food and only when you sit by him, so don't worry about that," Fred said, getting up. Anne frowned. "He's the other rescued stray here, full of traumas."

"Poor little thing," Anne said, scratching him behind the ears. "Who's the other one? Can I meet him?" Fred laughed.

"You live with him, so don't worry, you've met him alright," Gilbert shook his head and Anne was so confused. Ella appeared with pot holders and dishes, and organized the coffee table as Fred went to warm everything in the kitchen.

"We've called him our stray for years. Seemed so lost when Fred met him in first semester. So it stayed as a sort of endearment. You eat cheese, Anne?"

"Not regularly, but I have no problem if it's mixed, don't go out of your way," she said.

"Nonsense! It's in another bowl, I'll just leave it on this side of the table," she said as Fred appeared with a huge bowl. Bear stood up, shook and left the living room. Gilbert stretched a bit on the sofa, no longer crushed, and so did Anne. It didn't go unnoticed how they got closer together, as Ella looked at Fred with a smile. "He does cook nice. And I don't say it because I married him."

"It smells delicious," Anne conceded. "So it's not a med requisite? Cooking awful and unhealthy?" she asked as they served dishes of pasta and salad and started eating, the ambiance so cosy and relaxed.

"What? Of course not!" Fred said, offended.

"It's just Gilbert, then? When I got to his place his fridge scared me, honestly. Oncologist and full of the worst things to eat. Honestly…"

"He's not one to do what he prays, I'll concede you that," Fred said. "Never has, as long as I've known him."

"Hey! I didn't have time and I've never learnt to cook well. It wasn't worth it," Gilbert defended himself. "Plus, at least I exercise. That's more than what you do, Freddie."

"Might be, but I eat real food."

"The only doubt I have is why your kitchen is so well equipped. It doesn't make sense."

"Mary. She insists on cooking when she visits," he explained. Anne nodded. "She keeps bringing whatever appliance she doesn't want anymore, my house is her storage."

"Good thing you're living there now. I think he has regained a decade of life just eating what you cook. And it's so nice too, honestly. I keep stealing part of his lunch to be able to eat something nice," Fred said. Ella looked slightly wounded. "Love, you do know your experiments don't make sense most of the time. I love you, but you don't know a thing about cooking", he explained and blew her a kiss. She smiled silly. "Help me pick up and go for dessert, Blythe? I had ice cream, but we're definitely adding Anne's banana bread and I could use a hand."

"Sure," Gilbert acquiesced, gathering the dirty dishes as Fred picked up the serving plates. He followed his friend to the kitchen.

"Ok, so I'll be honest, Blythe," Fred said in a low voice as they loaded the dishwasher. Gilbert didn't say anything. He knew he was having Fred's piece of mind whether he wanted it or not. "It's ridiculous. She doesn't take her eyes off you. You can't even turn your body away from her. Do something already. I can't believe you haven't, what are you waiting for, a neon sign on her forehead?"

"She actually asked for time. This morning. So no, I'm just waiting for her to catch up with reality," Gilbert answered, his voice as low as Fred's, frowning. "Believe me when I say it's frustrating."

"Don't tell. It's freaking evident. Even Ella said something to me a while ago and you know just how imperceptive she is with anything," Fred insisted. "Her catching up with the sexual tension of you guys means the neighbors know by now. At the very least up your game. Maybe it'll drive her crazy enough she will come to terms with what she is evidently feeling. What are you doing now?" Gilbert made a vague gesture. "Blythe, speak. We take much longer, they'll be here," he said.

"I… I don't know, Fred. I hug her sometimes? I give her a kiss on the head when she's feeling poorly? We've held hands a couple of times? I've slept with her when she's had a bad nightmare… Oh, and last night at the fort. Sleeping, mind you."

"That's it?!" Fred asked.

"Everything ok?" came Ella's voice. "We're looking for the scrabble, where did you store it?"

"All good! It's on top of the bookcase, love. I believe" Fred answered. "It's not, but it'll keep them looking. Blythe, up your game. You don't want this to go out or to lose your opportunity when PEI opens. Restrictions are starting to loosen down. So do something or you'll regret it."

"Yeah, right, and what do you suggest? You've always had it pretty easy with Ella."

"I was direct from the beginning and did so without her hitting me with a book. So there's that. Just flirt, Blythe, I don't know… Do I really have to teach you that?" Gilbert felt his ears go warm as Fred kept looking for the dessert plates and everything else they needed while he spoke to him like he was a teen. He did feel like one. "But real flirt, not only go when she's feeling bad, but be open about it. Hold her hand. Hug her. Give her kisses that she wouldn't have received from her father. Tease her, provoke her… I don't know! Bring that, will you?" he said, signaling the pot of ice cream and the banana bread he had already arranged in a serving plate and going out of the kitchen. "So, who wants dessert?"

"It wasn't there, it was on the cupboard," Ella told him, motioning to the game they had already set up.

"Shoot, must have forgotten," Fred said, not an ounce of regret. "Anne, chocolate ice cream? It's coconut based."

"Yummy! Yes, please!"

They soon settled with their letters, banana bread (many compliments to Anne) and ice cream. Ella was terribly at the game, her vocabulary and spelling both poor. Fred tried his best to keep up with Anne and Gilbert, but it was evident the real duel was between them two. Anne kept using obscure words, many of them related to science and medicine and not likely to appear in any sort of normal conversation.

"Aren't you a school teacher? Why do you even know that word?" Fred asked at some point, just plain impressed.

"Oh, I have an excellent memory," Anne explained as Ella wrote down her points. Fred made a face, urging her to explain. "I used to help Gilbert study for his university entry exams… And I just retained way too much for it to be useful in anything but scrabble and boggle."

"You helped him study? No wonder he got into U of T," Fred commented. "Not common for people coming from remote towns like yours," Anne flushed, uncomfortable, and started moving her new letters around. She hadn't actually helped him study for that particular exam. She had helped to study for the ones on the Atlantic Provinces and… then he had met Winifred and all but ditched her to study with her for U of T. Gilbert shot his face up, looking at Fred with a silent but very direct expression, shaking his head ever so lightly. Fred bit his lips, not knowing what he had said wrong, and tried to think of anything to say.

"Coffee or tea, anyone?" Ella asked suddenly, also sensing the shift. And for her to notice it, it had to be bad, as Gilbert realized. Anne nodded, not looking up, her shoulders down, and Gilbert accepted with a bit more enthusiasm than what was needed. Bear came back out of nowhere and lay down next to Anne, putting his enormous head on her legs. She relaxed visibly and Gilbert sighed. He tried to move his letters around to come up with something so the game could move on.

"There! Volstadian!" he said as he organized the letters on the board, using every tile he had. "Annnnd it's a scrabble word! More points to me!"

"Think again. You misspelled it, Gil" Anne said, giggling at the tension she let out for finally letting go of the past weird moment. Gilbert looked at her, incredulous. "I'm actually serious here. You misspelled it."

"I did not!"

"Did too."

"I didn't! You're just stubborn!"

"Gilbert, look at the dictionary! It's not my fault if your spelling hasn't improved!" Anne said, a smile on her face. "Go on, look!"

"I will! Fred, what do you say in the matter?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't even know that word existed," Fred said, unwilling to defend him and just enjoying the show of the two of them discussing like kids and remembering Gilbert's stories about past spelling bees.

"And this is how I win at spelling, always and forever," Anne commented, a triumphant smile on her face as she saw Gilbert's shoulders come down and a frown appear on his face as he found the word on his dictionary app.

"I must have forgotten the E. Shoot," he mumbled as he took back his letters and started reorganizing them, his ears red. He hadn't misspelled anything in years. Anne was giggling next to him. His hand shot to the nape of his neck just as Ella came back. She slapped him.

"Gilbert, leave that habit already, you're not twelve!" she scolded him, and he flushed again. Fred snickered.

"Want some help? We already know your letters," she said, chuckling as she scratched Bear's head at how uncomfortable he seemed. Huh, how did that feel, Gilbert? He shook his head, putting another, shorter and much less valuable (but correctly spelled) word in the board. The game was coming to a close as Ella went to the kitchen for a minute and came back with a pot of tea and put on only one letter, and Anne finished the remaining ones in a word that, even when Gilbert looked up, incredulous, was correctly spelled.

"I'm never playing anything that involves letters against you. Either of you," Fred declared as he served the tea. He passed Anne a cup, who received it and curled on the sofa. He then gave Gilbert one, alongside a stern look, and finally served a couple for Ella and himself. Gilbert got the message and tried to sit close to Anne, who automatically curled against him. He smiled, relieved, passing an arm around her back and bringing her even closer to him.

The night dragged on, the talk easy, Anne feeling as if she had known them for years, so welcomed she felt. Gilbert felt happy, content, finally able to join two parts of his life he never thought would meet. He felt at home, the girl he loved in his arms, some of his closest friends next to him, the conversation invigorating. As they came back home, it was with an ease they hadn't felt in all the months they've been sharing the apartment, almost similar to when they were teens and used their houses instinctively, each belonging to both.

The next day Gilbert went to the hospital, Fred received him with pure praise for Anne. Even if he scolded Gilbert again for the evident lack of action, he did concede there was an ease between them that was not easy to find. The chat was cut short as one of the nurses went to look for Gilbert: one of his patients was having an emergency and they needed him dearly. And then another.

It was turning into one of those crazy days Gilbert really didn't care for, but that happened once in a while. He knew he couldn't really complain, compared to what had been happening the worst days of the pandemic in the floors below, but it still stressed him out of his mind. He picked up patients from his fellow doctors who were downstairs, doing his best to tend to all of them without putting them in risk.

**Gilbert Blythe (12:30): Freddie, take my lunch. I won't be able to make it, I'll eat something at home. Consider it some thanks for the other day.

**Fred (12:31): Sure thing, Blythe. Text if you need anything. And eat something.

When he arrived home, later than he expected to, he was dead tired and only wanted a nap, food not even on his mind even if he had skipped lunch. Anne put her book down and went to meet him as he took off his shoes.

"Bad day?"

"Can you tell?" he asked.

"You don't look great. Why don't you go and have a shower to clear your mind and I'll cook something for dinner?" she offered. He stood up and looked at her, finally feeling his shoulders relax. It was nice having a home to come back to. She smiled tentatively.

"Sure, thank you," he accepted.

"Anything you fancy?" she asked. You? he thought. He shrugged. He couldn't care less. Which probably explained why he had lived off canned ravioli before. "I'll make a nice ramen. You'll see." He went to have his shower as Anne got busy in the kitchen, putting together the soup quickly and setting the table. Gilbert arrived when she was serving the bowls, and helped her carry them.

"Thank you, Anne. Honest," he said, beyond grateful for what she was doing.

"It's nothing, really," she said. "Careful, it's very hot."

They ate almost in silence, Anne ruminating on what she had been reading during the day and Gilbert going over the decisions he'd made, thinking if there was any way to improve any of them.

"How was your day?" Gilbert finally asked her, decided to leave the hospital stuff at the hospital.

"Same as always. Read a little, wrote a little, ventured to the trail- with the facemask you gave me, mind you-, cleaned a bit around," she answered. Gilbert noticed she didn't look particularly excited about any of it.

"You don't look very happy about it," he commented.

"Well, every day is the same to me. Remember? Home arrest?" Anne insisted, taking another spoonful of broth. The afternoon was still bright outside, the official lockdown finished a couple of days ago. But she felt almost the same as when she hadn't been able to go out for nothing.

"You're no longer under home arrest, Anne. You can go outside, now. You just said you went to the trail," he countered. "And you wound me. Even the days when I stay home are the same? I have been putting an effort to take you out to see new places" He mocked. Well, one place and then Fred's invitation to dinner. She laughed. She looked longingly out the window, where the trees had green leaves now. Gilbert sighed.

He could understand her longing. He wasn't comfortable with her riding the public transport and she seemed to understand, but that meant she could only go walking in a small area. At least she had the trail close to home. She belonged in nature, not in the four walls of his flat.

"I know I'm lucky, with you receiving me and everything, but I just feel so… demoralized sometimes. I can't even concentrate on anything anymore and the only highlight is cooking, because I make myself do it so the day accounts for something. Well, and going to the trail, that has improved my days immensely. I should be more productive, do something, finish the book I've been doing with Kak'wet… But it's like I write two pages and then erase three."

**Fred (19:20): Remember to eat, Blythe. And stop overthinking about today, which I know you're doing. I just heard Dr. Shephard and he was talking about how impressed he was with you. And you know he's a git. If he's saying that, you should probably ask for a raise before he changes his mind. Or a regular schedule. Grown up doctor for the win!

"Anne, you are doing fine. Nothing in this situation is normal, so don't be so hard on yourself. No one expects you to write a best-seller while in lockdown. Be kind with yourself," he said gently, blocking his phone so he could pay full attention to her. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She sighed.

"I try. Diana and Cole keep telling me the same. But I have no motivation to do anything, I feel… I don't even know what I feel," she admitted. She took some of the floating veggies, tentatively.

"Anne, honestly. This is normal. Don't be so hard on yourself. Even if it doesn't seem like it, you have lost a lot in the past few months. And you're going through a grievance process. It's normal you feel frustrated and unmotivated. That's not to say you should just mope."

"I just feel like moping," she said with a pout. Gilbert smiled.

"Well, then mope. But not for too long. May I give you some advice for your days?"

"I've seen all the advice online. Structure to the day. Move. Drink water…," she recited, her voice tired and in an annoyed tone.

"Well then. Yes. That. But also, have something to look forward to each day. Just one thing that helps you go through the day. Maybe one day is baking bread. Maybe another one is a call with Diana. Why don't you try to record your days, something special about each one?"

"That would be nice. I don't know if I'll be able to come up with something every day, but it gives some food for thought," she conceded.

"I can always give you ideas. The rest of the advice holds true, you know? Do some exercise? Meditate? Have some structure? You could write about them. Or take pictures. Or draw."

"Easy for you to say, doc. When you go, next time I see the clock and it's already been four hours and I have no idea what I've done other than scroll on my phone."

"Why don't you write to me? Keep yourself accountable with whatever goals you set up for yourself? I might not be able to answer you right away but it may help you?" he proposed. He would love to know what she was up to. She looked at him. "You could always use instagram or facebook and post whatever you do in there."

"I'll think about it," she conceded. "I haven't really used any of that for ages."

"Me neither, but hey, there's nothing stopping us, right?" he wasn't interested at all in publishing anything, but at least he would be able to openly follow her now. She looked at their joined hands.

"Diana keeps saying that since everything started going downhill back at BC I stopped posting photos and she used to look forward to them. It gave her something to feel connected in another way, not that we didn't talk often and chatted daily," she commented. He wouldn't say anything, but he had missed it too when she stopped posting last year. Saying something would be admitting he was keeping up with what she did, even then, stalking her social media.

"Maybe do it for her, then? You keep doing things, I give you ideas if you ever need them, and you keep yourself accountable by posting for Diana?" he proposed, smiling at her, hopeful it would help her. She smiled as well. Not completely convinced, but it was an idea as good as any.

"I can try that. If it doesn't work, there's really nothing lost," she conceded. She left the spoon in her bowl, finished.

"Thank you for this. I hadn't eaten since breakfast and this was perfect," he said, letting go of her hand and getting up, gathering the bowls and cutlery they'd been using. She followed him and went to organize what she had left on the counter.

"My pleasure. Maybe I should have taken a picture of it to start with that project?" she commented. He laughed, closing the dishwasher and getting closer to where she was standing. She stood still, catching her breath. It always made her nervous when he got this close. He put some stray hairs behind her ear.

"You could have. Maybe one with our teas later on?" he proposed. She was very still, his hand still on her face, his eyes fixated on a largish freckle she had on her chin he had somehow missed before. It was a new one, from the past years. The biggest one now. But he remembered suddenly when he had noticed it before, just once. That day of the pillow fight. When they probably would have kissed, if it wasn't for that damn call that made everything go downhill so quickly.

"Well, that's an idea. But it was a divine bowl of ramen," she insisted, her voice only a whisper. Gilbert Blythe, move away , she wished as she felt her pulse quicken, all her nerves concentrating on the feeling of his warm, soft hand. But he didn't, knowing full well what he was doing. He looked at her in the eyes, his mind still fixed on that freckle.

"Divine," he accepted. The ramen. Her. It didn't really matter. She nodded slightly. He leaned forward and kissed the freckle lightly, noticing as she blushed brightly and relishing in it. Mission accomplished? He finally let go of her face with a small caress and turned to go to the living room, as if it was the most normal thing in their evening routine. She let go out a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding but still followed him.

She sat at her usual place on one side of the couch, grabbing her book to dissimulate how unsettled she still was and noticing how Gilbert went around Netflix and Prime looking for something to watch but clearly lacking any inspiration. He sighed and got up, turning off the TV after a moment and putting on some low music. He opened Spotify and went to the radio station of The Waiting Line by Zero 7 and Sophie Bajer. He turned on the fairy lights Anne had left out after the fort, insisting they were cozy. As long as she felt good in his house, he would do whatever she wanted.

"Everything ok?" She asked, leaving the kindle on the side.

"Yeah. Just no idea of what to watch. I'll read for a bit, I think," he said, not looking very convinced. He had a bad headache setting in, if he was being honest, and didn't feel like he would concentrate on anything. He went to the kitchen to get some painkillers.

"That bad?" Anne asked him, knowing full well he'd never been a fan of overmedicating himself. He made a vague noise. "Want to talk about it?"

"It's nothing in particular, really. I'm pretty sure it's just the general stress of the day combined with skipping a meal," he said, sitting back on the sofa, closer to where she was sitting cross-legged, book forgotten. She looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Just hospital stuff, Anne. Nothing for you to worry about," he insisted. "What are you reading?" He asked, just to divert the attention to anything that wasn't himself.

Anne knew what he was doing but conceded and started telling him about the book. He rested his head on her shoulder, relishing on the soothing sound of her voice and playing with her hand as she got into the details of what she was reading. Both knew he wasn't really paying attention, but he just wanted to hear her, and she didn't mind talking- she never had. And it gave her something to concentrate on other than her hand. Ignoring the apparent (and completely irrational) boundaries Anne had been erecting around them, that seemed to allow holding hands but not relaxing around each other as they used to years ago, he let go of her hand and lay down on the sofa, his head resting on her lap comfortably, as he curled next to her, relaxing at last. This was home.

She went silent for a moment, trying to decide if this was fine. It was just too reminiscent of when they were teens to be comfortable, but at the same time it felt natural. Like her legs were just the perfect place for Gilbert's head to rest. She decided to roll with it this once and see what happened, continuing the story absentmindedly. Gilbert sighed, glad he hadn't overstepped and that she had allowed him to stay there. Unsure of where to rest her hands (would it be ok if she touched his hair? Or was that too much?), she left them on her sides.

She looked at his unruly mop of curls, still slightly wet after his shower, suddenly remembering the nosy woman at Service Ontario. And how soft his hair was before, when there was an unspoken agreement that allowed her to touch it whenever she wanted. Well, he hadn't exactly been asking for permission to do anything, had he? He'd just given her the hottest kiss she's received in years and acted as if it was nothing! And it was on her chin! Come on! How pathetic her sex life had been so that a lone kiss on the chin was so hot? It was just not fair. If she wanted to touch his hair, touch she would and that was it. Or else he would have to stay away from her because it… Yes, she was touching his hair.

Gilbert, relaxed as he was, was curious about what was going on in her mind since she stopped the story quite abruptly, but didn't say anything else. He could almost hear something turn on her head as she made little, undefined, exasperated noises. He was about to ask her if he should move (maybe it was too much?) when he felt her hands combing his hair and he melted in a puddle, the same way he always had, and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh, just feeling her fingers in his head.

Anne smiled. His hair remained as soft as always and she seemed to be the one in control now. It was a double win in her mind. Who was undone now, Gilbert, huh? How did it feel to get this unsettled? She continued caressing his hair, but invariably explored a bit further from the natural boundaries of his hairline, feeling his jaw with a finger, caressing the side of his ear and putting his hair behind it. It had indeed grown longer than she'd ever seen it. She continued for a while, playing absentmindedly with his hair, considering how a cut would make him even more handsome.

"You know... It's evident you're aiming for a Trudeau style, but you're way shaggier than he is and it doesn't really suit you, doctor Blythe," she said, not able to contain a smile. He laughed quietly, not even opening his eyes.

"Anne, there's no place open to cut my hair. The prime minister's problem only reflects the one most of us guys in Ontario have right now. I'm sorry I'm not as handsome as he is to be able to grow my hair gracefully," he said, smiling. Anne blushed and thanked him silently for keeping his eyes closed. He was as handsome, but she wasn't about to say anything. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, catching her rosy cheeks. As always, he enjoyed her blush more than he should.

"I could give you a trim, if you want," she offered, trying to divert the attention from the way her embarrassment obviously amused him.

"No, thanks. I have a vivid image of you at fifteen, almost shaved. I don't want a buzz cut, thank you very much," he said, closing his eyes again, the amused smile still in his dimples.

"It was different! It was an accident, not that you would understand, and we weren't able to dye it in any colour that would effectively cover the green… Green isn't nice on me, I can assure you of that. Nor black, which was the only colour that would cover the odious green. Shaving it was the best bet, believe me," she said, not being able to make her hands part with his hair, even in the midst of her annoyment. Gilbert felt her fingers wander way beyond his hair, to his neck, and caught his breath.

"Still don't want the buzzcut. Thanks. Maybe it'll grow enough and you can show me how to tie it?" he proposed, trying to distract her so she would go back to where she was before, to where it didn't affect him.

"I used to cut Matthew's hair the last few years, when he didn't leave the house. I learnt how to do it well, I promise," she insisted, her fingers doing small patterns in his nape and thus killing him softly. This was his weak spot in more ways than one and she had known at least some of them since she was fifteen. He knew she was doing that on purpose, but surely not expecting the outcome she was achieving. Because yes, he was ticklish there. And yes, it also was relaxing when the mood was right. But right now she was exciting him and it would not do.

"Ok, but I'll hold you responsible for the outcome," he accepted, because maybe that would end the torture? Anne looked at his face, how it was somehow tense, his cheeks with a rosy colour she had seen so little times, and smiled mischievously. Really, Gilbert? Fingers on the nape had more effects now than before? She continued, mostly curious, but starting to feel warm as well in reaction of what she thought was his imminent arousal.

"Ok, tomorrow you have an appointment with Anne the stylist in the morning," she said softly, trailing her fingers further down, to the edge of his shirt. She continued caressing him, playing with his hair, watching as his jaw was becoming more tense. He sighed.

"Anne, don't start something you're not ready to end," Gilbert warned her after a few minutes, because she honestly couldn't expect to turn him on that way and then go away as if she had done nothing. If she kept this up, he would assume she wanted it and would kiss her senseless in about thirty seconds. He opened his eyes and looked at her brightly flush face.

"Want some tea?" she asked, getting up quickly, leaving his head on a cushion. Maybe she had gone too far?

Notes:

So, that's it for 2020! Next time we see each other we'll be in 2021. Here's to a great new year, that brings us joy, happiness, health and less pandemics.
We just have two questions before we leave: what do you think of Fred finally meeting mythical Anne? And... would you actually dare to play scrabble with Anne and Gilbert?

Some... Canada stuff in the chapter:
-Premier is the equivalent of the primer minister, but for the province.
-Barbershops and hairdressers did take a while to open. Anne's reference to Trudeau is also something that did happen in real life, you can get an idea if you google it...

And if you have no idea of what a Newfoundland is, please look for a photo of one. They're huge, black and beautiful.