Hi!

So, they talked! Kind of! But finally, so now they're interacting... and talking... and stuff. Anyway, as we don't want to give that much before you even get a chance to read the chapter, here you go, music and the story:

Now I am in it - Haim
If I lost you - Ariza, Emily C. Browning
Fool for you - Snoh Aalegra
Everyday smile - Sam Blakelock
Still feel it all - MARO
Up all night - Matt DiMona

We hope you enjoy. As always, we love to know what you think :)

See you on Saturday!

Chapter Text

Anne wasn't really thinking much when she went out of the bedroom. In her mind was only coffee and how to occupy herself for the next 16 hours. Well, maybe 14. Gilbert would be home at some point and they were kind of talking some now. One day at a time. She could try new recipes. She could… read. Maybe she could pick up a new hobby? And what was that noise?

She walked towards the living room and froze. Ok, that he worked out she had figured out just from seeing him around, he was evidently fit. She couldn't stop staring at his arms most of the time so she had figured she could concentrate on whatever he was holding at the moment (book? coffee? Did it matter?). But she would have never guessed he did it in the apartment. The first few weeks he had gone outside and came back straight to the shower and she hadn't thought a thing about it. Most of the time she had been locked in his bedroom, anyway. But since the strict lockdown was enforced, he couldn't go out.

So he was working out in the living room. Shorts and no t-shirt.

He was facing the window, opposite to where she was, so he hadn't noticed her as he went from a plank to a squat before jumping and doing it all over again. It was mildly hypnotizing in a weirdly satisfying way. Going with the rhythm of the low music he had on coming from his phone. Now I'm in It , she believed. By HAIM. Huh. Anyway. The Rhythm. Who would have imagined, when they were teens, the apparently fit Gilbert Blythe would get so much better as the years went by? He was a scrawny teen then, compared to what he was now. Not bulky, just… firm and strong.

Anne watched the way the muscles on his back clenched and stretched consistently with the movements, marking as he did each exercise, and her mind started following the rhythm. His hair sticking to the back of his neck and little beads of sweat in his back that were blurry as he jumped, wetting the upper part of his shorts. At least until she realized what she was doing, when he changed the sequence.

She turned quickly to leave before he noticed her, because if he saw her she would never live it down. However, clumsy as she was, she stubbed her little toe on the corner of the bench that was by the entrance.

"Fuck!" she let out unconsciously (and loudly, probably) as she leaned forward, sitting on the floor to see if there was still a toe in there. It hurt so much it must have fallen off. Not two seconds passed before he was there. Great. She was so close to the living room entrance, the offending bench just in the way, there was no way he wouldn't guess where she had been. Just what she needed. Gilbert Blythe knowing she was watching him exercise. Gilbert Blythe next to her, smelly, strong and radiating heat. How could he smell so alluringly when he was evidently just very sweaty?

"Are you ok, Anne?" he asked, kneeling next to her, completely forgetting what he had been doing, what he was wearing (or not) and only concentrating on Anne. Injured Anne. What was she doing there? Why was she flushed if she had hurt her toe?

"Toe... Shit, this hurts so much," she said, teeth clenched, concentrating on the pain just so she could ignore him. Him and his way too fit chest and his hair and those shorts and… pain was good. Pain meant not thinking of him.

"May I see?"

"No! It hurts! Leave it, it will fall off on his own," she said, not thinking. Gilbert chuckled.

"It won't fall off. You do know I'm a doctor, right?" he said kindly. She was so flustered it made no sense if she had just hurt herself on the toe, he thought again. Unless… Oh, that was nice. Anne Shirley-Cuthbert had been watching him exercise? And was now this lovely shade of red? Nice. She was suffering, he wouldn't egg her on now. But it did feel nice. "Please, let me see," he insisted, and she reluctantly let go off her foot. Which looked perfectly normal. "Which toe?" he asked.

"Tiny one? Still there? Has to be broken."

"Still there," he assured her, holding her foot gently with a hand and motioning to examine the finger with the other. Anne retrieved her foot quickly.

"No!"

"Anne, relax. I just want to see if there's anything more serious. Broken, as you said?" he said. She closed her eyes. Someone kill her now. She extended her foot again. He did whatever he had to (it hurt so much she could not contain the swears) and then he left the foot carefully on the ground. "Nothing to worry about. Here, I'll help you stand. Lean on me, I'll help you go to the sofa before I get some ice" he said, offering his hand. She accepted, not having more choice other than to stay on the floor, and leaned on him as she jumped towards the sofa. Leaned on his sweaty and strong and warm back, his arm around her waist almost carrying her. His exercise mat was still on the floor. She sat and he disappeared into the kitchen, thinking of how tiny she still was, and came back a couple of minutes later with an ice pack and some medical adhesive tape.

"You said nothing to worry! What is that for?" she asked, freaked.

"I don't think you broke it, so it's nothing serious. Even if you had, the treatment would be the exact same I'm going to do unless you had an exposed bone. This will just help you with the pain," he said. She bit her lips as he taped her little toe with the next one and put the ice on top. "Only ten minutes and then rest. You can put ice a couple of times more during the day if it really bothers you, only ten minutes each. I'll have a quick shower and then I'll make breakfast. Anything you fancy?"

"Coffee? Please?" he nodded, and went back to the kitchen to set the coffee pot before showering, shaking his head. Of all things, he hadn't imagined dealing with a hurt Anne this morning. A hurt Anne who, to have stubbed her toe there, could only have been standing in the threshold of the living room. So Anne was watching him exercise? He smiled silly, his dimples making an appearance on his face. She had been all but unaffected by him when they were teens, or so he had always thought. But this? This was nice.

Anne also started trying new recipes as a way to pass the time and insisted on paying for the groceries every time he went buying them, even when he never received the money. He laughed and assured her that feeding him was more than enough. And he was actually saving by buying fresh ingredients and not frozen meals.

"At least let me teach you how to cook! I won't be here forever, you know?"

"Shoot. Here I was dreaming," he half joked. Because he was dreaming that maybe, just maybe, she would stay there. She looked at him. "Ok, ok, teach me. You tell me what to do. What are we cooking today?"

"We're making a quinoa salad and some hummus. I already cooked the chickpeas and the quinoa, so it's pretty much blend and assemble," she said. She went to the fridge explaining to Gilbert how for salads it was important to find a balance between crunchiness, freshness, and try to put in something from every food group and balance the flavours. She took out some veggies from the fridge as well as the rest of the ingredients for the hummus and showed him how he was to chop the ingredients. "Just put those with the quinoa so they don't clutter your board, we're mixing everything anyway."

She turned and went to look for the blender. She liked that for whatever reason Gilbert's kitchen was overly equipped for the amount of cooking he did (it was perfect for her), but she hated that it was made for giants. She got on her tiptoes to reach the blender and he noticed. He admired how she looked when she stretched like that. But she was going to fall and drop that blender on her head.

"Here, allow me," he said, going behind her, closer than necessary, and reaching the blender easily. She froze, feeling his warmth behind her. She didn't dare move. He was never this close and she honestly couldn't think. Her mind blank, all her nerves focused on his warmth, the image of him working out coming straight to her mind. He left the blender just in front of her. "There you go. Just ask, I can get things for you if I'm around," he added, speaking close to her ear, a hand on her arm. She felt goosebumps and tried to ignore them. He squeezed her arm lightly and went back to chopping as if nothing had happened. But he felt so smug. He would have never imagined she would react to him that way, she was so flushed it was positively endearing. He knew she wasn't as mad as unsettled. And unsettling Anne was something he loved to do. Especially after the other day.

They carried on cooking, Anne more silent now, her mind half-way between his warmth and the vision of him working out and how his arm had felt that day around her waist, and then they shared dinner before going to the tv to watch the next batch of sobering news. The world seemed to be literally falling apart and here she was, little by little, letting her guard down and concerned only about what Gilbert maddening little gestures might mean. And his marked arms. And his gentle strength. And his smell, that had lingered around her until she had taken a shower. One day, she joked without thinking and didn't feel bad about it after. Other day she shared a story about her teaching days, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Gilbert treasured those moments.

**Fred (11:30): Lunch today? Or your Anne sent you with your lunch box?

**Gilbert Blythe (11:33): Not my Anne. But she did.

**Fred (11:34): Spoiled brat! Ella never sends me lunch. 😭

**Gilbert Blythe (11:35): Sorry, Freddie. You wouldn't eat it anyway. Let's meet at 12:00? I have to finish a treatment plan and then I can go. Your office or mine?

**Fred (11:40): Yours. I'm going to grab something, unless you want to share whatever you have 😏

**Gilbert Blythe (11:40): No problem. She packs enough for two.

"Blythe, I just can't picture you doing something like that! I don't believe you. I've known you for ten years. You don't flirt! You don't make advances. You let whatever woman crawl her way into you but you never do anything," Gilbert had been telling him about the blender incident and Fred seemed incredulous, at best.

"Because I wasn't interested, Fred… I've told you before,"

"I only love Anne and will only love Anne and Anne is my life even if she hasn't spoken for me in one, two, five, seven, ten years," Fred recited in a childish voice. Gilbert snorted, but didn't deny anything and just took one more bite of the salad they were sharing. "Have you told her about the ring?"

"Are you mental?! I want to live, don't I? I was thinking of stopping using it. I feel it'll only cause trouble down the road."

"Now you think that. Well, nurses will be happy. Divorced doctor Blythe. Quite the catch," Fred commented. "Hasn't she asked about the thing?"

"No, never. Better for it to stay that way. I could make up some sort of medicine-related story or whatever if I needed, I guess. It's not like she knows anything about the profession. Dessert?" Fred grabbed the bag quickly, not imagining Anne sent Gilbert a full lunch. But there it was in a little foil packed, an oatmeal muffin.

"You're kidding! You're beyond spoiled," he said. Gilbert gave him a triumphant smile.

"I know. I don't care," he said, before changing the subject to his favorite dog in the whole world "How's Bear doing?" Fred's face lit up as he started talking about the huge Newfoundland he had adopted a couple of years back.

That night they were sitting on the sofa, each at an opposite end as they usually did. Anne always cared about maintaining as much space between them as she could, and Gilbert had chosen not to force things. He was reading the heavy book Anne had seen on his nightstand and she was just browsing clothes on her computer. She was tired of living in three t-shirts, two pants, a sweater and a hoodie. But she also felt bad about spending money on clothes when everything was just waiting at Diana's.

"I'm getting some tea, want some?" Gilbert asked her as he got up. She nodded as she sighed. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah," she answered, getting up as well and going with him to the kitchen. "Just… It's stupid, really. I know it doesn't make sense because I never leave the house, but I was thinking of buying some clothes to at least get variety. Until I saw the prices. Do you think Diana would send me a box from PEI? I sent everything to her house after I left Vancouver"

"I'm sure she won't mind, if you remember which box it is," he commented as he put out two mugs. Anne took out the tea and some banana bread she had made the night before.

"Yeah, I guess… There's only three of them, I'm sure she can open them and look around," she explained. "Well, I guess I can wait for a couple of weeks. Or I could go with you to the supermarket, they're bound to have at least t-shirts."

**Anne S-C (16:20): Darling Diana, may I ask you the greatest of favours since you set me up to live with Gilbert?

"Anne, don't throw your money like that. Wait to see what Diana says. Did I tell you how good this is?" he asked, as he showed her the banana bread. She nodded brightly.

"I've been improving the recipe. Chocolates chips for the win. And I managed to make it without eggs, and I'm pretty sure you didn't tell the difference"

"This doesn't have eggs?" he examined the slice he was eating. She shook her head. "Ok, you win. Official pastry chef of the house. Look, if you are so desperate for changing, just look through my closet for t-shirts or whatever. Nothing will fit you, but at least is different," he said. She sighed.

"I'm so desperate I might accept your offer," she said, just as her phone buzzed.

**Bosom friend (16:22): Sure thing, tell me.

**Anne S-C (16:22): Send me a box with clotheeeeeees. I've been wearing three changes of clothes for weeks and I'm going mad. Gilbert must have seen my desperation because he just offered me his clothes 😢

**Bosom friend (16:23): He just wants to see you in them. I'll send the box. Do you know which one it is?

**Anne S-C (16:23): He doesn't. And I don't know. There's only three of them with all my worldly possessions, can't you just open them? 🙏

**Bosom friend (16:24): I'm sending all of them 😑

**Anne S-C (16:24): Noooooo because where those boxes are my home is and I don't want my home to be Gilbert's apartment.

**Bosom friend (16:25): Deal with it. I'll go tomorrow to the post office.

**Anne S-C (16:25): You're incorrigible. But thanks 😘 Let me know how much it is and I'll send you a transfer.

"Well, she's sending all the boxes. She doesn't want to peek through them."

"Understandable. How many did you say there were?" he asked, thinking about a whole moving truck arriving.

"Three. I don't have many things, Gilbert. Just a few trinkets from Green Gables, some books and clothes. I've… I don't like having things. They always remind me of something and I avoid that. I'm sure they won't take much space, they're not big boxes. So. What do you think? Should I put some nuts in this next time?"

"Anne… I don't care how much space they take. You can just unpack them. Feel at home here. Really." Anne looked at him like he couldn't be serious. "I know you don't live here. But only so you feel better the next few weeks? I understand it must be tiring to be in your situation. At least that way you'll feel some sense of belonging to the space." He tried. Because even if what he was saying was true, he also wanted her to move in with him. And they were getting a bit better, a bit more relaxed around each other with every passing day. He could tell the difference and he knew she could as well.

"I don't know if that is a good idea, Gil," she answered quietly, looking at her tea. The implications were too big.

She couldn't afford to feel installed in his house. She couldn't let her guard down, not yet. But she could wear his hoodies, and that's what she did. Only until her clothes arrived, anyway. Right?

The first time she picked a hoodie of his was because she had put hers in the washer and needed one. She picked one from the bottom of the pile, figuring he wouldn't miss it much, and put it on. It was huge, because… well, he was huge compared to her tiny frame. She didn't think much of it when she walked out of the room and noticed he was still sleeping, his face more peaceful without the worry lines he seemed to nurse all day long. She stood there for a moment, just studying him.

She did want to befriend him again. Only she didn't know how. His mind and him in general (his body!) were just so attractive to her she felt warm inside in more than one way. But then she remembered when all her illusions crashed down years ago and she wanted to keep her distance. She didn't feel ready for anything. To even admit he was her friend. That still seemed too much (but somehow, still not enough). She turned and went to the kitchen when she saw him stir, hurrying to put on the coffee.

"Good morn…" Gilbert said from the door, still very sleepy, but lost his words when he saw her. She had accepted the offer to wear his clothes all right, but he hadn't meant wear my hoodies and nothing under . He swallowed and turned directly to the bathroom. It's not that he hadn't seen her legs before, she kept using some almost indecent shorts as pajamas. He knew they were still long, the skin so soft and creamy he just wanted to bite them. It would not do for Anne to see what her attire did to him. He closed the door behind him, resting against it. It was not fair that she walked around like that and he had to deal with his finally subsiding morning erection coming back to life in full force. It was just rude from her.

"Gilbert? Are you ok?" she asked from the other side.

"Yep. I'll… be a minute," he answered, trying to sound relaxed and probably failing miserably, but it worked as he heard her steps going away. He sighed, trying to clear his mind from Anne and failing spectacularly as he seemed to be invoking more and more images from her. When she went on her tiptoes to get the blender and he stood against her and she smelled so sweetly Anne. And when she stretched after cleaning the mess she'd done with the sourdough. And… he was only getting harder. Fuck.

He was in deep trouble and he knew it. Maybe a cold shower? He stripped quickly and got into the stream, the shock of temperature waking him fully and distracting him enough so he could go out quickly to his room and change. When he came back into the kitchen, he saw her sitting on the stool eating some toast with peanut butter and sliced banana on top and drinking a coffee as if it was the most normal thing to do while wearing only a hoodie. Was she doing this on purpose? She was pure evil.

"I prepared you one as well," she commented as she scrolled. He nodded, taking his things and sitting next to her. "I took on your offer. They are comfy. Just so you are aware, you just lost your wardrobe"

"Anytime, Anne. Anytime," he said, as he tried to look discreetly. He breathed when he saw she indeed had some shorts (those very short shorts of hers) underneath the hoodie and only then he could enjoy his breakfast. She was so trying to kill him.

3:23 am said her watch. She tried to go back to sleep, but the images of St Albans were still vivid in her mind, too real as soon as she closed her eyes. She sighed. She hadn't had a serious nightmare in months and had been glad for the change. Not one that forced her to get out of bed, anyway, because they had been almost a nightly companion since she arrived at Gilbert's. Sitting up, she decided she might as well get a glass of water or a tea. Maybe tea: preparing something would clear her mind. It had to, because it was still too early to call Kak'wet. Or Jerry.

She left the hoodie, deciding it was not worth right now. Gilbert surely was sleeping and she would be in and out of the kitchen before he knew it, so he would never see her in the thin camisole she wore to bed. She tip-toed to the kitchen and carefully put the kettle on the stove, not daring to turn on any light in case it woke him up. Years of staying up, going out in adventures in the middle of the night and coming back unnoticed were fruitful: she didn't make a sound.

Claiming victory, the hot chamomile mug in her hands, she turned as the light bulb from the corridor lamp went on. What…? Not two seconds passed before a very shirtless Gilbert appeared clad in only a towel. She froze in place. Maybe if she stood still he wouldn't notice her? And she could go back to his bedroom very very quietly?

"Anne?" he called her, and turned on the kitchen light. But she had been invisible in the dark! "I saw your room door open. Are you feeling well?" he asked, visibly worried. She nodded. The bedroom door. Shoot. She had lost practice.

"Just a bad dream. I'm… I'm going back to bed" she squeaked, doing her best not to look directly at him and keep her hands and the mug directly in front of her breasts. She was not too sure about the coverage of the camisole, to be honest. Also, she wanted to unsee him. The image of him working out haunted her constantly to now add Gilbert in a towel. It was not fair that he was so damn hot! Like he was hot when he was in the hockey team but this? This was illegal. And in a towel! What if it fell?! How well had he secured that thing?

"Let me just change in a second. I'll be right with you," he said and disappeared towards the living room. She stood there, still frozen. Well, St Albans was no longer in her mind, now. He came back not thirty seconds later in his horrible hospital scrubs. "Come," he said, motioning towards the sofa bed. That was still very much a bed. His bed, thank you very much. She sat down, still looking straight to her tea, feeling she must be so, so red. Like a freaking teenager. Because she could not take the image of him in a towel from her head. Of him working out, sweaty. Geez, she needed help. Professional help. "Want to talk about it?" he asked. The question brought the orphanage back to her mind. She no longer knew if she preferred that or half-naked Gilbert.

"Not really. There's not much to tell," she answered. She didn't want to talk with him about her nightmares. Not when she had told him all about them when they were teenagers. Not when he had come to appear in them all through her twenties.

"Still the orphanage?" he asked, quietly, passing an arm through her back and holding her for the first time in years. He tried to ignore her attire as it would not do to show any appreciation for it at that moment. Had he known how she slept, he would have had many more sleepless nights. For Anne, his comforting arm felt so right she didn't even have the will to shake him off and he seemed to notice as he held her closer. "Anne, please know you are safe here. I… may not be a great reference, considering everything, but you know I never make the same mistake twice. That has not changed," and somehow, she believed him. Because she knew it to be true. He had never erred two times in the same way. "And it means you can relax here. You can trust. You can feel safe," he said, quietly, feeling as she relaxed.

It was nice, not having to explain how she felt or what her dreams meant. He already knew that. Anne just couldn't have thought he would remember. She tentatively rested her head in his shoulder and felt him sigh as he held her tight. Everything about them seemed so fragile right now it scared her so much. She couldn't bear to lose him again and the fear had her reluctant to let him in. Once had almost destroyed her. She would not survive a second time. She drank some of her tea, not moving, and he held her the whole time. When she finished her cup, he took it from her and left it on the table.

"Lie down" he instructed, pushing the covers to the side. She looked at him, frowning.

"What?"

"Lie down. I'll wait until you go back to sleep and I'll go to work after, I can grab a coffee in the hospital when I get there. I just want to make sure you're ok before I leave. You're more important. Come," he insisted, arranging the pillow and she surrendered, crawling and lying down on her side, facing him.

After the first night, they had traded pillows (he was used to his, after all), and she had slept better. This one was still slightly warm and oh so gilberty. Like most of his clothes she now wore without any shame. And the way he smelled that day she stubbed her toe. He pushed the duvet over her. He turned off the light and crawled over behind her, over the covers, and spooned her. She sighed, tense and relaxed at the same time.

"Relax, Anne. I know for a fact you won't go back to sleep on your own, and even less in the same bed you woke up on. I just didn't know you still had nightmares," he said. She swallowed at the feeling of his breath on the nape of her neck and remembered him in a towel. Her mind was going to kill her. "Relax, Anne-girl," he said without thinking and felt her tense up again at the sound of her old nickname. He sighed. "Do you want me to move?"

If this wasn't going to help, he would move in a second. He had only done it because it used to work in high school. She didn't answer, but shook her head slightly after a moment. So, he stayed until he felt her relaxed and breathing deeply and rhythmically, and then hurried out the door to try to get in time.