Hey, everyone!

So I did my homework and left this ready on Tuesday night just so I could binge-watch House after, and still publish early-ish. We really hope you enjoy this chapter! It comes with music, of course, and it plays... an important role at some point. Would recommend that you listened before or during your reading.

-Floating (feat. Khalid) - Alina Baraz, Khalid

-I'm Glad I Met You - Gilian Spencer Trio

-Choose Me - spring gang, Alexandra Corral

-Technicolor Beat - Oh Wonder

-Any picture with you - Joie Tan

-Tu Sí Sabes Quererme (feat. Los Macorinos) - Natalia LaFourcade, Los Macorinos

-Love Me Slow - Ashton Edminster

Now, because everything isn't peaches and roses (sadly), we're starting as of today with a new added segment of the notes, after greetings and music: warnings and triggers. Special guest for today: implied abusive relationships. Please take it into account before you judge. And please, as well, take a hard look at the series as well about Anne's mental health. It will be needed.

Now, that wasn't to scare you. It's a beautiful chapter, we promise :) Read along!

Chapter 19

When Gilbert arrived later that night, still chuckling at the comments on the post he had been reading while going up the stairs, he found that Anne had followed his advice and was sound asleep. Just not where he had thought she would be: she had prepared the sofa bed like he did every night, and had curled there, with her pillow, leaving him the one he used every night. He stood there, in the darkness, looking at the arrangement. Trying to decide if he was understanding the message. It seemed pretty straight forward.

Walking to his bedroom, Gilbert saw the bed, still made, just missing a pillow. Well, it did seem to be some sort of invitation. So what, all his teasing was resulting in her sleeping with him? But if she wanted to sleep with him, why not do it in his bed? It was way more comfortable. Unless she didn't actually want to talk about it. She had a knack for ignoring important discussions. He took off his shirt and undershirt and stripped down to his boxers, putting everything directly on the washer. Anne was so fast asleep he wasn't even worried about walking half-naked. And she had invaded his space (if the living room could even be called that). She had left his sweatpants on the chair next to the sofa and he grabbed them, obediently. No t-shirt, he noticed with a chuckle. Oh, Anne. He walked in boxers to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

She was curled on one side, her back against the back of the sofa, leaving him more than enough space. She seemed deep asleep. He sat on the edge, still scrolling through the comments, but not really reading them as he thought of what this new arrangement meant. He bit his lip, his free hand shooting for his nape. He had thought his free days had changed the winds somehow, but this? This was taking a huge leap of faith for her. He had been looking for answers the day before as he teased her mercilessly, and he had thought he had found them. This, however, was an underlined, italic, and bold answer. Next time the opportunity presented itself, he would no longer doubt.

Finally, he laid on his back, looking at the shadows of the ceiling. He dearly hoped tonight was not a… one night kind of thing. He had slept so good on the fort with her (considering they weren't even on a mattress) he knew that tonight would be even better. And he feared getting used to her presence for her to leave again. He sighed.

"Hi," she whispered sleepily. He turned his head and saw her, eyes slightly open.

"Hi," he answered.

"I hope this is alright," she said. He nodded.

"If you want it, it is," he said. She nodded, closing her eyes. "Just maybe the bed, next time? My mattress is nicer than this," he teased lightly. She chuckled sleepily. "Go back to sleep, Anne-girl." She seemed to do so quickly, her breathing calm and long, and Gilbert stayed there, looking at the ceiling. He was tired, but he couldn't get his mind to calm down. Something was changing. Or, if he was imagining things, he would have to talk with Fred about getting some medication against delusions.

When he woke up next morning he was alone in the bed. Anne didn't mention anything nor did he, as if they had been sleeping together forever. They went about their day and when he came back from work, she was again in the sofa bed. When he went to the hospital the next morning, Fred intercepted him.

"Oh no, Blythe. No more avoiding from you," he said. "I already checked and you have some free time so we are getting coffee and you're not getting out of it."

"I'm not avoiding you, Freddie," replied Gilbert, because he honestly wasn't.

"Oh, I know you're not. You're just avoiding my questions and I'm not having it. I want the full story," they were getting to Tim Hortons then and they asked for their usual drinks. "So, spill. I want to know. What are you so giddy about? And don't you dare say nothing because that's laughable, Blythe. And you know I love you and get happy for you. I just want to celebrate with you whatever is happening with Anne. And tease you, of course," Fred said as they went to the bench. Gilbert shook his head, undecided on how much to tell his friend. That teasing when she was kneading? Definitely not. That was his. "Blythe!"

"Ok, ok, Freddie. So yes, you win. There's… Honestly, nothing like you're thinking has happened. There's just been this… shift on how we behave around each other. I'm pretty sure she now is open to something more. More so than before, I even think she would be not only open to it, but maybe even looking for it? But we haven't even kissed, so keep your hopes low."

"What makes you think she's looking for it, then? And why are your ears so red suddenly? Blythe, spill!"

"There's… You know how I told you I left her my bed when she came to my apartment and I've been staying on the sofa?"

"Yes. Makes sense. At least until you finally get a place with two proper bedrooms."

"Ok. So I've been on evening shifts this week. Which I have to look for a way to end, you honestly think I could have a regular schedule now if I asked for it?"

"Positive. Heard about it and everything, go to Shephard so he can talk Yang up. Continue," Fred answered quickly. Gilbert made a mental note.

"Ok, so I've been getting home around one or two in the morning. And I told her not to wait for me, because I know she would otherwise and you know messing with sleeping patterns does shit for nightmares, right?"

"Wait, nightmares?"

"She's always had bad nightmares about her time in foster care and the orphanage. She's so stubborn she's never wanted to do anything about them other than endure them, which doesn't make any sense to me. I know she's had some over the past couple of months but I think she's been doing better."

"She does know she can get help?"

"Of course. Only she doesn't believe that she needs it because she is horribly stubborn and then I end up trying to calm her down. I don't know who she called all these years," he commented, thinking about it for the first time.

"Tell her to call me? I understand if she doesn't want to go to therapy with me, too close to everything, but I can direct her somewhere," Gilbert nodded. "Continue?"

"Ok, so I told her not to wait. So I fully expected her to be asleep when I got home. And she was. Only on the sofa."

"On the sofa where you sleep?" Fred asked, wide-eyed.

"On the sofa where I sleep. So I went and checked her bed and it's all done, just missing her pillow. I thought it was on purpose, so I get into the sofa as well- she even left my pajamas there, and then she asks if it's ok for her to sleep there."

"Are you kidding?"

"I'm not."

"No wonder you're giddy. So you're telling me, you've been sleeping with her and haven't kissed her yet? Why on earth, Blythe?"

"No chance yet?" Gilbert said, because he had no better answer by that point. Fred laughed. "What?"

"You are spending about six to eight hours snuggled with her, and then you live with her, and you tell me there's not been a chance? You want to kiss her or not?" Fred said. Gilbert blinked. When he said it like that… "Make your own opportunities, Blythe. Don't wait for them. I'm telling you, she won't say no this time."

Fred's words didn't leave his mind for the remainder of the day. Or the afternoon. As he opened the door later that night, he was actually expecting her in the sofa bed, so it was no longer a surprise. He went to brush his teeth and changed into the sweatpants after taking a slow shower, thinking.

When he got in bed, Anne turned and opened her eyes as the other nights. She always woke for a minute or two and then went back to sleep with the peace of knowing Gilbert had arrived at the apartment, he had let her sleep with him, and everything was going to be alright. Only this time, as her eyes found his, she saw a different glimmer in them. The same exhaustion from the other nights, but accompanied by something else.

"How was the hospital?" she asked, sleepily. Gilbert looked at her. She usually didn't start such a conversation when he went into bed. More a g'night and keep on sleeping.

"Good. Nothing out of the ordinary," he answered, smiling softly. She nodded, and yawned. "Your day?"

"Same as always. Finished a book. Wrote some more. Edited a bit," she said, stretching. She didn't know quite why, she wasn't so sure of going back to sleep just yet. There was something unsettling about his expression tonight. "So, nothing else happened?"

"Nothing much. Talked some with Fred. Says hi, by the way. I… might have told him how you have nightmares sometimes," he commented, looking at the ceiling.

"Gilbert!" she scolded, more awake. Not his story to tell! She turned and gave him her back, somewhat annoyed.

"I'm sorry, Anne. I'm just worried about you," he said, and turned to hug her. She huffed, knowing he had had good intentions about it but still a bit mad. "He commented that he can direct you to someone who can help."

"I don't need someone to help with that," Anne sentenced. Because as long as she had him, she didn't. She was so sure of that, especially when he was wrapping her with his strong arms around her waist. Nothing could ever happen to her as long as he was there. And she had managed splendidly all her life, even if with some ups and downs. Jerry had been there, too. Gilbert was seeing her hair, the two messy braids she now only wore to sleep, and sighed.

"Maybe we can discuss that in the morning?" he proposed, talking softly to her nape. It was definitely not the best subject before sleeping.

Anne shivered a bit at his warm breath and he felt it under his arms, taking it as a cue. Fred was right about something. An opportunity didn't have to appear if he could as well create it. Trailing a hand from where it was hugging her on the waist, up her arm, he brushed off the braid from her shoulder and her nape, revealing her freckles, her smooth skin and the thin strap of the camisole. She usually didn't sleep with hoodies, leaving them in a lump next to the bed. Her back thus exposed, he smiled, trailing soft, small kisses from the back of her ear down her shoulder, sliding the strap slowly down her arm.

Not expecting his touch, she inhaled sharply. Because this was not like the other day in the kitchen, unless he planned to leave her there alone and go sleep on his bed. This was not teasing, she knew at the bottom of her stomach, warming with butterflies. What Gilbert was doing now, he was doing in full conscience that it was in earnest, with all the consequences that implied. She swallowed, wondering for a split second if she was indeed ready for this. But she was. Oh, she so was. And as her mind aligned itself with her heart, her body reacted with a tiny whimper that was like the best sound of the world to Gilbert's ears. It escaped before she could even think of containing it.

Trailing back up to her ear, his kisses were no longer the soft, innocent ones he had given her on the way down. Her breathing was a bit stronger as he caressed her down her arm, all the way down to her waist, his mouth working its way with open mouthed kisses and nibbling, feeling his own heart beat wildly. Gilbert knew as certain as the sun would come out in the morning that what he had dreamt for so many years was imminent.

Anne really tried to control her breath and the way her heart was beating wildly. She didn't know what to do with her hands, with herself, not used to being touched like this, as if she was precious and valuable. But she couldn't well handle it, and allowed herself to follow her body's cues, taking a deep, quiet, shaky breath, feeling Gilbert smile as he kissed her behind the ear.

"I want to see your face, Anne-girl," he whispered in her ear in a raspy voice, and Anne noticed how affected he was, too. "Please turn," he pleaded, nudging her with his hands, because there was nothing he wanted more right now than to see her eyes. She obliged, knowing as she did so her life was on the verge of changing as she was going to kiss him, whether he was planning on it or not. She could not hold it any longer and she didn't know any longer why she should have to, if she wanted to kiss him. She was biting her lip, making that resolution, as her eyes connected with his.

Neither would ever know who kissed whom, as they seemed to meet in the middle with the same urgent need to convey their emotion, love and want to the other. Gilbert had thought about his first kiss with Anne in any number of situations along the years. Hundreds of scenarios, each more absurd than the next as the probability for it to happen neared zero. But he had never imagined it to be in bed, clad in pajamas, in the middle of the night, as he came back from work.

It was perfect.

More than perfect, it was real. He brought her closer to him, his hand tangling with the hair at the nape of her neck, the one on her cheek going to her lower back. Her arms around his neck, pushing him to her. She deepened the kiss, almost demanding him entrance, which he readily gave her as he held her even closer. Anne relished, not thinking coherently but all the same wondering how she could have said before she had kissed anyone if the feeling was in no way comparable to this.

"I love you so much, Carrots," he mumbled hoarsely. He couldn't help himself when they parted their lips for a second, the nickname he loved so much escaping his lips without a second thought. Anne looked at him, but only saw honesty and some deep need, deep lust in his eyes that made her catch her breath and realised that she did, too, with every cell in her body.

Anne kissed him again in response and felt his free hand roam down her waist slowly, down her bottom and then circle her thigh. Her hips jumped with surprise and he smiled into the kiss with some unshared knowledge. Gilbert waited for a moment, kissing her back, his hand going teasingly up and down her bare leg (bless those shorts, he thought for the first time), to see if she would push back. When she didn't, he nudged it with his next caress to wrap his own leg, turning on his back and effectively taking Anne with him and having her half straddle, half lay on top of him. She ended the kiss, blinking in surprise. Never before had she been on top.

"Is this ok?" she asked, worried, as the last time she had tried something of the sort it hadn't ended well. Gilbert frowned for a moment, confused as to what she was asking. Was what ok? Kissing on the bed when the two of them wanted? Her being on top of him when he clearly had invited her to do so? Being with him?

"Do you want it?" he asked softly, some terror inside he hoped didn't show up. Anne swallowed. She did. All of it. Being in that position, where she could start to feel so much, finally kissing him… she wanted all of it and them some. She nodded, blushing. "Then it is perfect, love," Gilbert answered, making a mental note to go back to this some other time and kissing her again. He felt her adjust to be more comfortable and in doing so, he felt a shiver cross his spine as she inadvertently grinded a bit against his growing erection.

She stood up a little, resting her hands on his shoulders and looked at him in the eyes. He couldn't help but smile, so happy he felt. Anne studied him for a second, watching how his cheeks were, for once, slightly blushed. How his pulse was evident on his neck and his chest. He blinked once, twice, his eyes never leaving hers, wondering what was going on through her mind just as she made a decision.

Anne went down to kiss his neck, to the area she knew for a fact had always been sensitive. Even if it was to tickles, there was bound to... Small nibbles. A bite here. Some sucking there. As Gilbert couldn't contain a small moan (and he was trying), she knew she was on to something. So this is what it feels like, to be so in control? was her thought as she felt Gilbert's breathing become more ragged and how he was beginning to bulge more down. His mind, in fact, was getting cloudy with everything she was doing, and he needed to do something now.

Grabbing her face between both his hands, he kissed her deeply, insistently, hungrily, until he managed to elicit a moan from her and some reaction from her hips. He then let go of her face, still kissing her, tangling one hand in her glorious hair, the other roaming down to her bottom, bringing her closer to him as she whimpered the tiniest bit again. He shifted his hips up slightly as she moved the next time.

"Gil?" she asked, ending the kiss and seeking reassurance. Anne knew she was not a virgin by any means. She hadn't been in so long. Yet, this made her feel as if she was- and they weren't even having sex, for gods sake. Gilbert saw confusion in her eyes. The insecurity. He knew then it was nothing about him, but about something else that made his heart hurt. What had Anne gone through? What could he say to...

"You are perfect, Anne," he tried. She swallowed. "Nothing you do will make you any less so," he insisted, but she still looked doubtful "Whatever you want, go ahead. You're free here with me," he assured her, before kissing her again.

Anne kissed him and tentatively moved against him, intuitively knowing it would feel good. They ended the kiss and she burrowed her face in his neck, moving slowly. Good heavens. This was what everyone talked about, she could feel it. Maybe it was real, that you could indeed come with someone as they did in the movies. Gilbert moaned, because he could not help it, the way she grinded against him so perfectly timed. He nibbled and sucked a spot on her neck, and Anne contained a whimper as well, not stopping her movements. Gilbert wasn't complaining, so she mustn't be doing something particularly bad and oh how his mouth felt in her neck was a delicious torment.

"That's it, Carrots," he whispered, his voice coarse. "Enjoy yourself," he insisted, feeling her breathing get increasingly ragged. He went back to her neck, thinking probably this was going to leave a mark but oh, what if it did? Anne felt like she was so close. She recognized the feeling, having managed so many times on her own. But this? She had never come with anyone before and suddenly it seemed scary, even if this was Gilbert, of all the people in the world. If anyone was bound to make her feel good about this, and not self conscious or even selfish, it was him.

But, Anne realized as she seemed to near that point where she would definitely crumble down, she was not ready for this yet. She wanted him. She so, so wanted him. But she didn't know how to let go completely around him yet. She'd never done so before around anyone. What if she pushed him away, if he didn't like it? And she could have him and not come, she had done so plenty of times before. It's how it worked for her, usually. Even if Diana said it was not normal. So she stopped. She stayed on top of him, but rested her chest on his, her cheek in the crook of his neck. Her heart wild, her breathing fast.

Gilbert could sense something was not completely right, but knew better than to push it now, so he hugged her, caressing her softly on the back up and down. Soothingly. Even if he felt how pulsing he was down there, he could manage to ride this off. She seemed unsettled and an unsettled Anne would not do. What had happened? She had seemed so, so close. They stayed like that for some minutes, until she scrambled down to lay next to him, hugging his bare chest.

"Are you ok?" he finally asked, not able to contain his worry any longer.

"Perfect," she said, smiling at him. She hadn't felt this good in years. And he could tell she was, almost.

"I love you, Anne-girl," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. She sighed. "Go to sleep, it's very late now."

When Gilbert woke up the next morning, he was alone again (they did have different schedules and she had always been an early riser), but something smelled nice. He got up, stretching a bit, and went to the kitchen to find Anne making banana pancakes, completely absorbed in what she was doing. The just-woken look, combined with the camisole and the shorts and her messy braids (he would have never thought they were still a recurring style for her, after all these years) was so appealing to him, he just stood and looked at her. She was so sexy it made no sense, especially when she was unaware of someone looking at her. He noticed a small love bite in her neck and bit his lips, trying to contain a smile. He had been there.

He went back to the living room and took his phone to put on some music to reflect his ridiculously good mood. Ever since he had gone during the summers to volunteer in the Caribbean and Latin America, he had a penchant for that music and he always thought it was the happiest ever. So he put some on, deciding that, why not? Maybe she would dance with him. He walked over to where she was cooking.

"Morning," he said to her ear, hugging her from behind and kissing her neck. To be able to do this, he could die a happy man, now. Could every morning of the rest of his life be just like this, please?

"You're awake! I'm finishing breakfast. Since you have more time in the mornings these days I thought we might have something different than regular weekday fare?" she said, turning in the embrace and looking at him bright eyed. He chuckled. Only she would think about cooking at a time like this.

"Anything you want will be perfect," he assured her, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. She smiled and kissed him back. She couldn't wrap her head around what was happening and cooking always grounded her, with all its repetitive and mundane tasks. This morning seemed so out of a dream she couldn't quite believe it yet.

"Well, banana pancakes on the menu today," she said, motioning the stove with the spatula, turning again to flip the one she had on the pan. He laughed, not letting go of her. She seemed to be in good humor as well. "I like that music. I never know what it is, but I like it. Maybe share the playlist with me some time?"

"Sure thing," he accepted, watching over her shoulder how she tended to the pancakes. She took the last two pancakes from the pan and put them on the stack she was building on a plate, the island already set with maple syrup and cut out fruit. "Come here, we can eat later," he said. She frowned, but left the spatula on the counter and turned off the stove before following him to the open space between the living room and the kitchen island.

"What?"

"What do you say you dance this one with me?" he proposed, smiling. She turned red and shook her head, uncomfortable.

"I don't dance, Gil. There are things that never change. This is one of them," she explained, starting to go back to the pancakes. He offered his hands. Even if she was terrible, which he doubted, he just wanted to enjoy the music with her.

"I'll guide you. And if you hate it, we stop," she looked at his hands and then at his eyes. You're going to be the death of me, Gilbert Blythe. But she accepted the offer, anyway. Because she was a fool, and she was in good humour, and hey, they had made out yesterday so dancing should be easy. Or something. He smiled brightly and brought her closer. What did it even mean that they had made out?

The song was one he had heard countless times since the album came out some years before and had always wanted to dance to. And that today was more fitting than anything else could be. For all that she said she didn't dance, Anne moved fluidly, understood his guidance as if it was a second nature and soon they were dancing. Twirling her, she laughed giddily and Gilbert smiled, feeling that everything was right in this moment. He hummed along the song, the words clear on his mind. Couldn't she maybe stay forever in his house? Couldn't they do this every morning? He felt her eyes on his and looked at her, and it was like he was doing it for the first time, all wonder in her eyes, something he didn't know how to explain. All too soon, the song ended and he reluctantly let go of her, feeling a void he didn't know he had.

"Thank you," he smiled, giving her a small peck. She smiled in return, a small flush in her cheeks. "One more?" he asked, as the next song started.

"Breakfast first. Then we can see more about dancing. But pancakes are getting cold and they are good, I promise," she said. It's not that Anne was opposed to dance more, especially after how Gilbert had guided her, but she had made some really nice pancakes and wanted to eat them while still warm. Gilbert served the coffee as she put the plate on the table. "I never knew you could dance like that," she commented after a while.

"I learnt in Uni," he said. "I used to go on volunteer trips, mostly with Fred, because I never wanted to go to Avonlea in the summer, and I picked up a trick or two." He didn't care to elaborate, a weird silence between them as Anne understood the reason for his travels. It was an unspoken fact that he avoided summers and she avoided winters, as if they were some sort of divorced couple sharing custody of a town, at least until she moved to Vancouver and her visits became more sporadic. She ate some more, distracting herself. "But hey, I could teach you."

"Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Gil," she said, chuckling. "What you witnessed was sheer beginners luck."

Gilbert laughed. If that's the worst she could dance… He didn't push the idea, though, and soon they were just cleaning the kitchen. He washed the bowls and all the things Anne had been using while humming to the music, debating if he should try to talk about their sleeping arrangements or about what had happened the night before or if she would clam up as she did with every subject that had anything to do with them together. He decided it was worth it. At least the bed thing, and he would take it from there. If they were going to sleep together at least they deserved the bed that was readily available in his bedroom.

"So… I was thinking," he began tentatively. She looked at him, "I know that the living room has the tv, but my bedroom has a very nice bed, I'm sure you've noticed," she blushed a little, feeling where this conversation was headed. "Wouldn't you prefer we slept there, rather than on the couch? If you really want to share a bed with me, that is," he continued, trying to sound relaxed but actually praying he was not messing up and had understood her quiet gesture from the past several nights. She kept quiet, biting her lip, cleaning the stove.

"Your mattress is good," she acknowledged after a moment, but didn't elaborate. Carrots, please acknowledge the situation? was all that was in Gilbert's mind.

"Anne… I'd like to understand what you want. Please," he said, as he dried his hands and looked at her. He was fine sleeping alone on the sofa. But he felt she wanted him to sleep with her. He was fairly sure by then she at the very least wanted to give their relationship a try. He felt compelled towards her. He felt an attraction and chemistry he had tried to emulate all through university with other women to no avail.

"I sleep better when you're around," she confessed, blushing furiously. More deeply, almost no dreams, and she hadn't had a nightmare in the whole week, which was some kind of personal record. He chuckled and she looked at him. Clearly he had no idea of what she had meant.

"I do too. So, can we just do it on the bed? I think it will be better for both our backs," he proposed. She nodded, quiet, and he noticed her mind was somewhere else. Not a very pleasant place, if her eyes were any indication, which they usually were. He frowned. "Anne-girl… what is it?"

"Nothing, Gil," she smiled, but he could see there was something there. And then there was… her insecurity the night before, for lack of a better word, and suddenly he was worried all over again, feeling a pit on his stomach.. As he had been as a teen, when he realized Anne never told the whole truth about her past experiences.

"Please tell me," Gilbert said, walking towards her and grabbing her hands. He looked her in the eyes, "please tell me, Anne-girl. Are you having nightmares again?" he saw her doubt for just a second.

"No, Gilbert, I'm not having nightmares again," she answered, hoping it sounded honest. Which it was, technically. If you never stopped doing something, could you say you were doing it again? He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, skeptic. She looked to the floor and felt a blush creeping in, and hated herself for being so fucking transparent around him. He let go of her hand and caressed her cheek, tilting her head upwards, to look at him.

"I know you, Anne. And I know you're not telling me everything," he started, tentatively. She swallowed. "But do you know you can trust me with anything?" She nodded. Silence hung in between them.

"It's just they've never left," she finally whispered, and he hugged her.

"I'm with you, now, love," he whispered in her hair. "We will figure it out, Carrots. Together. You'll see," he promised.

Anne sighed into his chest, unsure if he was going to be able to keep his promise, but willing to try. And anyway, this day was happy. It was supposed to be happy. Today she was not going to think about nightmares or bad things or anything because last night they had kissed and even if she had no idea of what it meant or what it implied, it had fulfilled one of her dearest wishes since she had realized how handsome and kind and just plain… Gilbert he was. And what's more: he wasn't ignoring her this morning and seemed to be ever so affectionate. So it was surreal, because men never were like this, but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. Beginning now.

So, in the middle of his strong arms, Anne returned the embrace and relaxed in it, inhaling his scent as she smiled against his bare chest. He had not put a t-shirt yet, probably waiting until he showered. Gilbert felt the change in her stance, and sighed. He would not push this today. But he would at some point. This thing Anne had- whatever it was- was not healthy. She needed to see someone about it, about her time in the orphanage, and that was the end of the story.

But now Anne was kissing him in his collarbone, nibbling it teasingly, and Gilbert knew that, whether he wanted it or not, the conversation was over. Because he couldn't possibly bring on any sort of heavy subject while all that was on his mind was her. He let go of her for a brief second before holding her head in his hands, tangling his fingers in the base of both her braids and kissing her deeply. God, he loved these braids and had dreamt of doing exactly this since he had seen them first. About half a lifetime ago.

Anne smiled into the kiss. This, this she wanted now, because kissing felt good, and kissing him was plain glorious, and while they kissed Gilbert could not ask any questions about her nightmare's frequency or whatever heavy subject he had in his mind today. She just wanted to enjoy him for whatever long this was going to be. He let go for a second, watching her in the eyes. This morning, she was still on with this? It had not been something to leave only at night?

"Anne-girl, you can't..." she kissed him, and he tried to complete what he was saying in between their lips meeting, "just avoid… difficult stuff " She started kissing his neck again, making him lose coherency, to see if he would shut up already. "You can't very well do that and…expect… nothing," he said rasply.

Searching her mouth, he kissed her again, more determined this time, making some steps until she was flush against the island they had just cleared up. His hands caressed her back, feeling her shiver under his fingers, and went down all the way to her ass, grabbing it and then pushing it up. She was now sitting there, on the island, and she didn't lose a second, wrapping her legs around his waist and bringing him closer to her as he gave her open mouthed kisses along her neck, his hands going teasingly light on either side of her torso, on top of her camisole, always stopping just below her breasts.

Gilbert was going painstakingly low, making her whimper internally, but he had a bad feeling about whatever experience she'd had before him and he wouldn't touch her any more than he had already without asking first for consent. That was just the way this was going to be, after what he had felt the night before in her. And eventually, he hoped she would open up to him about whatever had happened.

Plus, he was loving her squirming little noises more than he would ever admit and now that he finally had permission to touch her, some of her, he wanted to trace his mouth in every single available space, so he could always remember each freckle and she would never forget his mouth. He allowed his hands to go just an inch higher, his thumbs just coming closer to the lower part of her breasts, and she gasped.

"Is this ok, Anne?" he asked, leaning back only to be able to see her eyes. She nodded, trying to regain her breath but unable to do so. She let go of his neck and held onto the counter with both hands for dear life. Words had left her, because if they hadn't she would certainly find a way to tell him this was not only ok, but she needed this, and needed his touch, and please don't stop there Gilbert because it's killing me. But she couldn't voice it. She couldn't appear needy and last night she had surely gone beyond what was acceptable.

His eyes still on hers, he let his hands go higher the next time, his thumbs effectively brushing her breasts as the question hung in between them. He held them just there, still, until she gave the tiniest nod. She tried taking in a steadying breath. He could tell how much she wanted this, but he needed her to voice it. Or at the very least, let him know she agreed with his touch. Going higher the next time, Anne nodded quicker, understanding how he would not move until she gave any indication and for the life of her she needed him so much, to touch all of her, to...

When his thumbs finally brushed her nipples over the fabric of the camisole, she couldn't help the deep moan that formed on her throat nor the movement of her hips against him, but tried to hold it in quickly as she realized what was happening. A half estrangled moan. His eyes still on hers, dark but soft. This was unnerving. Anne leaned forward to kiss him and Gilbert smiled, obliging, but kept it short.

He wanted to go all over her and not just her mouth, and now that his hands finally seemed to have a larger access, he started nibbling her collarbone and she couldn't stop the whimper his touch created, even when she was trying so hard to stay silent. Her arms went back around his neck, she tried to breathe but was keenly aware of every cell in her body and couldn't help but squirm.

Gilbert trailed his kisses down her chest, just until the natural boundary of the camisole. She didn't do anything to take it off, so he didn't either. For all he wanted to see her, to admire every inch of her, he would not take this initiative yet. Anne felt his raspy stub in the skin of her chest, his mouth and his lips kissing her, and wondered what they would feel like directly on her breast. Only to think of it gave her a thrill. She caressed the nape of his neck with the tips of her nails and heard him catch his breath.

"That's good, Anne-girl," he encouraged her, speaking close to her ear and proceeding to taste it lightly, managing to get a whisper of a stifled moan from her. She felt him smile against her skin. If only he knew what he was doing to her. She tried to bring him closer, feeling bolder than she had ever felt in her life and sensing his erection through his sweatpants and her thin pajama shorts. She tried moving against it to relieve some of the need she felt. The answer of his hips was instinctual, meeting her in the middle, and she bit her lips to suppress a new moan.

Leaving her breasts alone, Gilbert trailed his hands down along her back until they found her bottom, and he pushed it a bit forward, closer to him, following the movement she had done a few seconds before. He held her there, so close to him and yet so far, so many layers in between them. She squirmed, not even knowing what she needed to get some release of the state Gilbert had brought her to. She knew what to do by herself, how to move her fingers to reach release. But here? How was it supposed to happen? He had to know. He seemed so overly confident about all he was doing and he wouldn't harm her. Or make fun. He went to her collarbone, oblivious of her unsaid question, or her doubt, and licked it slowly. Her hips went forward again.

"Please, Gil," Anne forced herself to say. What was she asking? She had no idea. He leaned back to look at her, worried about finding fear, or anything that hinted at her not feeling as good as he wanted. But in her eyes he only found frustration, need, confusion, as if this was somehow new to her. It couldn't be. He knew by then she had been with more guys- he had heard Diana, Cole and even Jerry rant about them with all sorts of unamiable opinions. How much they could have messed up with her?

"Do you trust me?" he asked. She nodded. "Then don't fight whatever it is you need, darling girl, and just do what you need, follow my lead," he tried, before kissing her deeply again. She corresponded hungrily and when she felt again the urge to move, she welcomed it and tentatively tried grinding against Gilbert, feeling him push her against him. Oh, this felt so good, she would never have imagined. If she could do it faster, maybe she would…

Gilbert went back to her neck, doing his best to keep himself reigned and in control of his body. Which was as hard a task as anything he had done in his life, feeling Anne move just so against him. Oh well. She was doing it now. Why should he restrain himself so much?, he thought before corresponding her movements with his own. They were finally finding a rhythm and he was considering they might actually come- how long ago since he had done this as a teen, he would never answer if prompted- when Anne stopped suddenly.

"What's that?" she asked, breathing quickly. Then he heard it.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, not being able to contain the swear word only to the confines of his mind. She looked at him. "It's my alarm, I had it in case I fell asleep. I have an important meeting in half an hour to check into a research program for a new stem cell treatment and… Shit, I wish I could just cancel," he said, resting his forehead in Anne's, a string of courses he would not say aloud in his mind. She felt some relief, as she didn't know how this would have ended otherwise.

"You still work until late?" she asked a moment later, not putting any more distance in between them. She didn't want to let go, not really, and spoke with her lips almost touching his. Neither made any move. His eyes were closed, but he hadn't moved.

"Yes. Same time. I have this schedule for a couple of weeks still. I just go in early for this… fuck, I should have schedulled for the afternoon," he insisted, his voice tense with frustration. He took air and sighed deeply. Anne kissed him.

"Go. I'll be here. But go shower, quickly, so you have a clear mind," she said. Gilbert didn't move. "Gilbert! Move, now!" she insisted, louder. He almost jumped. Kissing her a last time, he went directly to the bathroom. Cold water, definitely.

So... was it worth waiting 18 chapters for a kiss? Do you have a favorite moment? Anyone wants to send Fred a thank-you note just for stating the obvious and shaking Gilbert?

Here's a good challenge: can you guess the first kiss song?

We'll see you on Saturday!