Title: Always My Valentine

Author: Patrick

AN: Sorry it's been a while on this one. I'd originally posted it intending to enter it in the FB Valentine's Fic contest, but since I didn't finish it on time I let it fall by the wayside for a while. This chapter's kind of short, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Part Three

The air in Ross and Rachel's bedroom was inundated with the smell of sweat, sex, and scented candles. Ross laid on his back with a subdued grin plastered between his slightly reddened cheeks. The moisture that had accumulated on his neck and shoulders glimmered seductively as the soft flicker of the candlelight danced reflectively across it. Rachel lay next to him with an arm draped across his chest and her finger twirled and teased thereabouts, exploring every inch of the nicely toned expanse of his pectoral region. Moving southward, one of her legs was slung over top of his, the two appendages melting into one satisfied form in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Her head was nuzzled against his shoulder, whereupon she would occasionally place a loving and rewarding peck that Ross knew to be a sign that he'd pleased her thoroughly.

"Mmmm," Rachel sexily purred as she gushed her weight into his side. "Happy Valentine's Day." Ross chuckled bashfully at her cuteness, raising a hand to gently stroke her golden brown hair.

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning down and kissing the top of her head gently, enjoying the salty-but-sweet taste that flourished there along with the intoxicating aroma of shampoo and conditioner seasoned to desirable perfection with Rachel's cresting perspiration. The fulfilled pair lay still for a while leaving the room in anticipatory silence, save the gentle whir of a box fan in the corner. The appliance's typical function was well out-of-season, but Ross and Rachel used its sound to add a degree of privacy and protection to their lovemaking when Emma was asleep in the next room. Parenthood had made romantic music and uninhibited cries of passion a thing of the past, save days when Emma was being watched by her grandparents, during which times the releases were so volcanically explosive that the couple were surprised no one had threatened eviction afterwards.

"I love you," offered Ross, his voice hushed and low. Rachel didn't respond verbally or in any overtly physical manner at first, but Ross felt the subtle tightening of her cheek muscles as her mouth formed a grin and knew that she felt the same little butterflies in her stomach that were fluttering rampantly in his. It was amazing that, even after they had shared the most intimate of experiences and lay naked together in the wake of it, the ostensibly simple admission had the power to make both feel suddenly vulnerable; that over the last decade, those three words had been the seemingly capricious fulcrum upon which their lives were balanced and subsequently unbalanced and so forth.

"I know," she finally returned, her tone flat but sincere. Ross contemplated her response wordlessly for a few moments before deciding not to worry about it. It wasn't the colloquial response he'd been hoping for, but he recognized that he and Rachel were hardly the typical couple. The idiomatic "I love you too" would've been too easy, simply put, and if there was one thing their relationship was not, it was easy.

"So did you happen to work up an appetite?" Ross wittily queried as he rose to a sitting position and reached for a t-shirt that was slung over the nightstand. Rachel pulled the sheet close around her body, trying to capture the heat that his movement had allowed to escape. She watched his muscles work as he squeezed his torso into the garment they'd so haphazardly discarded nearly an hour before and debated over his question. Even though he probably hadn't intended it, his question was a double entendre, one she couldn't possibly ignore when he rose from the bed and sauntered half-naked towards the spot in the corner of the room where his boxers had ended up.

"You bet," she replied, deciding to feed her stomach before satiating any other desires. After all, their night together was still young. The food, on the other hand, was getting older by the minute.

"Ross?" she beckoned. Ross had donned a pair of black warm-up pants from his dresser and was heading for the bedroom door when her voice caused him to stop short.

"Huh?" he answered, turning to meet her gaze. His face was expressionless, save the subtle tensions of anticipation and the faintly perceptible glimmer of utter contentment in his eyes.

"I love you too, you know," she grinned, satisfied that she'd kept him waiting for the words long enough. Ross smiled and looked on at Rachel in total adoration for a few moments and wondered how he could've possibly been stupid enough to let their relationship fall apart that first time, seven years previous. He wondered if Rachel had sensed his fleeting concern when she hadn't said the words back to him only minutes earlier and smiled even wider, realizing with the strength of maturity and security accumulated over nearly a decade that she didn't really even need to say it then.

"I know," he warmly asserted, the mimicry of Rachel's earlier response totally unintentional. Finally, after years of falling short trying to convince himself that she loved him, he really did know this time.