Title: In the end… it'll all be worth it
By: Tryx
Summary: 10 years later, and Lane and Dave are still together. A moment in their lives.
Rating: PG
A/N: Okay, I believe very strongly that there isn't nearly enough Lane/Dave fanfiction out there, so I thought I would try my hand at it. And this fic is a little different than the norm. It's the companion to a fanart by the wonderful Rea… but instead of the fanart being inspired by the fanfic (which is what seems to usually happen) this was the other way around… it was the wonderful art by Rea that inspired this fic… and therefore, this story is dedicated to her. Thanks for making such a wonderful piece of art, hun… keep 'em coming!
Feedback: please Read and Review! … please?
The door to the small house swung open and a petite Asian woman stepped out. Lane paused, stretched her arms out, and squinted up at the bright sky, her eyes nearly closed behind her thick-framed glasses. She blinked and tugged the brim of her cowboy hat down to shield her eyes from the sun.
The harsh summer sun beat down on her body—the heat flowing over her in waves. She cringed, wishing that there were some way to cool herself down, despite the fact that she was already wearing a white bare-backed top that her mother would never have allowed her to look at, never mind give her permission to wear.
Lane closed the door behind her and slipped her small feet into her sandals before starting down the path. Her legs were already beginning to sweat. There was nothing she could do about it, though. Her white slacks were the last clean pair of pants she had with her that sill fit. That was the last time she'd let her husband help her pack.
Husband.
Her husband.
Lane glanced down at her left hand. It was bare. For the first time in years, it was bare. She ran the pad of her thumb over where her wedding ring should be—used to be—but wasn't. It still felt weird, not to be wearing it, not when she hadn't taken it off, not once, in over two years. (Wow, had it really been that long?)
Her hand traveled up to her neck, to the silver chain that hung there, cradling her wedding ring in its wake. The smooth band of the ring nearly matched the metal of the chain it hung on—silver. That was, until you took a closer look. Then you realized what it really was.
Platinum. Smooth and strong, it was one of the luxuries they had been able to afford with their generous lifestyle. The second ring on the chain clicked softly against its counterpart. Her engagement ring.
If Lane had had her way, she would have lived her entire life without ever taking either of them off. It felt wrong somehow not to have them on her finger where they belonged. But things didn't always work out the way you planned, and she'd had no choice but to remove them. They didn't fit anymore. Her fingers had swelled quite a bit in the last few months, and the rings had begun to cut off her circulation. She hadn't really cared at the time. She'd been more concerned with keeping her rings on her finger than with the tingling sensation that was becoming constant in her finger.
It wasn't until her husband had begged and cajoled her—finally resorting to telling her that holding a drumstick would be a lot harder with only four fingers, and that it might mess up her beat—that she'd allowed him to cover her hand in dish soap and tug the rings from her finger.
She was counting down the days until she could replace them to their rightful home.
Lane smiled. She could hear music. He was playing again. Lane ducked under the last tree branch and stepped into the clearing.
They had bought the cottage—if it could be called that, as it was infinitely more luxurious—not only because of the much-needed privacy it provided but also because of its proximity to the lake. She loved it. They both did. This time last year they had been in the water. They had been swimming in the cool depths, splashing and racing each other. But now… this year… things were different.
The music continued and Lane looked up and saw her husband sitting back in the lounge chair at the end of the dock, with his guitar resting in his lap. He continued to strum out a soft tune, but Lane didn't recognize it. She stood there a moment, just watching him. Then she smiled. He was writing another song.
He'd been writing songs for as long as she'd known him, but most of them were never seen my the other members of the band. Most of them were only for her. Over the past ten years, he'd written her hundreds of songs. Some of them were complete, but many remained without words. There were also a few that were little more than glorified poems—pretty words that even he didn't yet know the tune to.
But they were all beautiful—at least they were to her—and they belonged to no one but the two of them. Even Zack and Brian had never heard them. There were a lot of songs, other songs, which were written for the band to play. But those were different.
The band was still together, after ten years, and was doing amazingly well. They'd been discovered during their third year of college, and their career had flourished. They'd become one of the most popular rock bands in years, and Lane's shelves at home were lined with awards that they'd received over the years.
For years, Lane and Dave had kept their relationship out of the spotlight. And despite various rumors—some of which paired Lane with any and all of her band mates—the public wasn't aware that they even had a relationship until after they were engaged.
Lane smiled and started down the dock. Her sandals slapped against the damp wood and the dock swayed under her steps, but Dave didn't seem to notice until she was standing almost right beside him.
"Hey," he smiled, pulling his guitar off his lap and setting it on the ground beside him. He reached up (his own wedding band glinting on his third finger) and took her hand in his.
"New song?" Lane asked, squeezing his fingers. Dave nodded and kissed the back of her hand, but said nothing.
"Is it for the band?" she asked, although he didn't think it would be. The band was on a much-needed break right now, and Brian and Zack were both off doing solo project.
"Nope."
Lane took a step closer, tilting her head to the side. "Is it for me?"
To her surprise, Dave shook his head and smiled at her. The dimple in his chin showed when he smiled. Lane reached out with her free hand to touch it. "Then what is it for?" she asked, running the backs of her fingers down the side of his face.
Dave looked up at her from his seat on the low chair, his eyes shining. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed her hip gently. He tugged her closer. Then he leaned forward and, ever so gently, pressed his lips to her swelling belly. His eyes met hers and he kissed her stomach again.
"It's for her."
Lane felt her heart swell, and hot tears began to prickle in the corners of her eyes, but she held them back and smiled down at him. Dave let go of her hip, but held tight to her hand, pulling her gently down into his lap. Lane wrapped her arm around his neck, and Dave nuzzled his face into her shoulder. He kissed her neck once, and then leaned back slightly, so that he could see her face. He grinned.
"Nice hat," he laughed, shifting his hand in hers so that his fingers were threaded between hers. "But isn't it Zack's?"
Lane shook her head. "Nope," she said, and then smirked. "It *used* to be Zack's. I stole it when the tour ended."
Dave laughed and kissed her cheek. Lane leaned into his body.
"Well, Zack never did have the best fashion sense."
"Hey!" she protested, letting go of his hand and poking him in the ribs, causing him to jump. "I *like* the hat. I think it looks good on me."
"Everything looks good on you," Dave said. Lane wrapped her other arm around his neck. "You're so beautiful," he whispered as he slid his hand down her body until it rested on her stomach. He rested it there, feeling the baby move gently under his palm. Lane loved watching her husband when he was like that.
Dave's eyes met hers. "She's moving," he said in an awed whisper.
"And just *how* do you know that it's a girl, huh?" Lane asked, threading her fingers through his hair. "We decided not to ask, remember?"
Dave just grinned at her, as if he knew a secret she didn't. "It's a girl."
"Does it really matter?" she asked.
"No," he said, rubbing her belly once more. "But she's still a girl."
Lane rolled her eyes and leaned against him, rubbing her cheek against his.
"Mmmmm…" he sighed a moment later. "What are you doing out here, anyway? I thought you were going to stay inside." His voice was teasing.
"Hey! It's hot out here. I'm a lot more comfortable inside."
"It's not that hot," he said. "It's a lot cooler than last year."
"Yeah, well, you're not seven months pregnant, are you?"
Dave laughed. "Thankfully not. Because that would just look weird."
Lane rolled her eyes at her husband, but laughed in spite of herself. "Now you're just being silly."
Dave nudged her again. "So why *are* you out here?"
"I came out to get you," she said. "It's lunchtime and you promised that you'd cook me lunch."
Dave groaned. "That's what I get for marrying a woman who can't cook anything she likes to eat. Okay, come on," he said, letting Lane stand up before he got up himself. He leaned down and picked up his guitar before taking Lane's hand in his own, and lacing his fingers through hers.
They walked slowly back to the house in silence. It was the first time in ages that they'd actually had any amount of time to themselves. They were forever being hassled by their agent or by reporters and television cameras. But now, they were finally, blissfully alone. Together.
When they reached the house, Dave set his guitar down against the outer wall. Then, as Lane reached out and pushed open the door, he pulled her back, towards him. She looked up at him, eyes questioning, and he backed her up against the doorjamb. He let go of her hand and rested it against the doorjamb behind her head while the other hand caressed her stomach.
"You asked me once," he began, his eyes burning into hers. "Whether I thought all the hassle that came with trying to date you was going to be worth it to me." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, then pulled back.
"And just so you know… it was. I love you, and it was all worth it."
[end]