Author's Note: Okay, for the record, this is kind of my "Strikes Back" Story. I haven't written in a while and right now, I am deliriously sick. I was deliriously sick last night when I thought up this story and I am now equally if not more so, deliriously sick. Please take pity on me. Please? Oh and this is one shot.

Disclaimer: Yeah. I don't own it.

"Do you think she's here?" Will asked for the umpteenth time. They were sitting high in the stands waiting for Will's turn to joist. The crowd, needless to say, was not cheering all that loudly. Instead, they were all chattering in French to each other. Not even pretending to pay attention to the 3rd rate knights mounted haphazardly on gray, tired horses that were charging at 'full speed'.

"Will, if you're so keen on seeing her," Chaucer said, " Well, why don't you go look for her instead of just asking us if we've seen her. Which we haven't, obviously, because we've been with you the entire time." Will looked up into space, as if processing the information in his head. Chaucer put his head in his hands and shook it. He was so dull sometimes. Kate covered her mouth with her hand and tried to subdue the laughter that was presently bubbling inside her.

"I think I shall!" Will said, rising to his feet, " I'll go change and then I'll find her."

He sprinted through the crowd, causing a smattering of unintelligible French swears. Chaucer turned in his seat to see him running across the fair, slipping in the mud and tripping over loose chickens. Chaucer snorted as he turned back to the joist.

"Yak's milk! Beef skewers! Roasted Chicken!" a man called from the crowd (in French of course, but you get the idea).

" Oh! Fooood!" Wat exclaimed, "Hey, buddy! Come over here!" The man turned around and started heading the other way. "That guy just turned around!" Wat said angrily.

"Well, thank you Sir Obvious," Roland said sarcastically. Usually, he would have said something back, or punched him, but this time he just dove after the hapless French vendor.

" Oh dear," Roland sighed. They watched as Wat started yelling at the vendor and the vendor yelling at Wat. Soon a group of other vendors came and started motioning wildly with their hands, pointing at their comrade and then a Wat. This snowballed into pushing, which could only lead to slapping, which, as all who traveled with Sir 'Ulrich' knew that could only lead to Wat being beaten to a bloody pulp.

"Shall I go save him?" Roland asked rhetorically, as he rose and headed down to where the Vendors vs. Wat match had just begun.

Kate smiled as she ran her front teeth over her bottom lip and then rubbed them with her sleeve. Damn chapped lips. She felt a weird feeling, like someone was watching her. She turned her head to see Chaucer looking at her, his chin slanted down, eyes unmoving. Most of the time, when someone was caught staring at her, they would look away quickly, but no this time.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked with a snort.

"Yes, you do," he replied and then leaned over the gap between the two of them. She thought he was going to say something snide or stupid, but instead he out his hand on her chin and said, "You've got something right…."

And then, moving to quickly to be stopped, he kissed her. It was short, but for Kate, it lasted a millennium. The world stopped altogether, but still, it spun like a top, first this way, then that.

All too soon it was over. As they pulled away, her hand went up and seconds after his lips had left hers, her hand had left a long purple mark across his cheek.

"Bloody!" he yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was for kissing me, stupid" she retorted.

"I thought you wanted me to," he argued, "You kept touching your lips!"

"That means I have chapped lips," she said, "Not that I want you to kiss me."

"Oh," he sighed, looking at his hands.

"But thank you," Kate said nodding her head, "It was a good kiss."

"Really?" Chaucer said perking up.

"Yes," she said, "But it was a one time thing."

There was a long, awkward silence. Suddenly, a very purple Wat appeared. "I don't want to talk about it," he growled defensively.

Chaucer snorted and Kate placed her head in her hands. Roland arrived a few minutes later with a bloody nose, but besides that, it seemed he had once again proved himself inpenitrable. As the match ended, the four began to head back to the tent. "So," Wat said, "Did you two have fun while we were gone?"

"No," both of them said with a blush.

"Well, incase you didn't notice, Wat just got his entrails turned into his extrails," Roland said. He paused and then finished, "By a vendor."

Wat instently jumped to defend himself, "It wasn't that bad, ya see………."

But Kate and Chaucer weren't listening. They didn't even seem to be walking on the seem street or planet as Wat and Roland. Outside of their minds, there was no noise. No horses, no chickens, no crying children or clashing lances or Wat's yelling. The only thing they heard, the only thing they saw, the only thing they were aware of, was of eachother.

A/N Yeah, I know it sucked, but it is what it is.