The rest of the beautiful, sunny afternoon was spent leisurely wading knee-deep in the clear, blue water, splashing each other— to Mac's mock-chagrin—and having relatively light conversations about life, love, and anything in between. Within that time, his hand had subtly found its way to hers, and their fingers were soon linked together. To anyone else on the beach, they quite possibly might have looked like two laid-back adults, but the casual form of closeness was rather intimate for them.

Stella wiggled her feet in the water absently, enjoying the feel of the sand between her toes. A small giggle escaped through her lips, and the look he gave her was one of bemusement. "Care to share?"

Her mouth curved up into a smile, bringing a sparkle to her eyes. "What is this?" He didn't see the sparkle, however, because her gaze refused to meet his own. It was, instead, on her prune-like toes in the water.

"Uh, sand?" He fought back the grin that threatened to break out on his face.

She snorted derisively. "Really? I never would've guessed. You're my new hero, Sherlock." There was a playful undertone in her reply, but sadness hid behind her eyes, which were now locked with his.

Over the thousands of times Mac Taylor glanced back at the first time he kissed the love of his life, each time he did, he swore that time stopped.

He leaned closer, giving her plenty of time to move away. She didn't. Blue eyes met green, oblivious to anything else around them. Needing no further prompting, he brushed his lips against hers, softly, sweetly, and all too briefly. He pulled away, hoping he did not just make the biggest mistake of his life.

She smiled again, and he kissed her once more, deeply, passionately. Her hand came up to his neck, drawing him closer, and he wrapped his arms around her slender waist, relishing the feel of how perfectly she fit in his arms.

They finally parted, joined hands yet again, and continued along the edge of the lake, tension eased by the consciousness of this new phase in their relationship. No words were spoken. Silence was enough.

/\\/\\

She slept on the way home. He resisted the urge to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and snapped his eyes back to the road, reminding himself that it would do them no good if they got hit by a car on the way back.

Precious, was the word that came to his mind as he stole a glance at her. A peaceful smile was on her face, and her breathing was slow and steady. Her curl-covered head rested against the windowpane.

As he pulled the car into her driveway, her eyelashes fluttered, and she yawned. "Oh, we're home?"

He didn't bother correcting her on the fact that it was only her home, not his. "Yes. Thanks for paying so much attention to me during the drive," he teased, putting his keys in his pocket and getting out.

"I'm sorry." She yawned again and rubbed her eyes as she slid out of the car and walked to the door. Her keys jingled as she unlocked it and led him inside. "Do you want a drink?"

"I want pizza" was his all-explaining reply. Without waiting for her to speak, he dug out his cell and dialled a number he had clearly memorized. She laughed as he ordered curtly and hung up.

"I should probably find it somewhat odd that you have the number of a pizza place mentioned, but…" she trailed off, grinning.

Frowning petulantly, he said, "Oh, leave it be. I like pizza." He glanced around her living room. "Do you have any good movies?" He raised his eyebrows when she shook her head, laughing again.

"I have satellite," she offered. "Pay-per-view is really good."

He eyed her suspiciously. "No chick-flicks?"

"Deal. But… I get the remote."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Men always get the remote!"

"They do not. Fine, if I promise not to switch to the sports channel while we wait, will you let me have it?"

"Oh, I'll let you have it, alright." She grinned evilly and flung a pillow at his face, and squealed and ducked when it came flying back at her.