AN: Hello beautifuls!

FINALLY! I am expanding! This does NOT take place between Vampire Academy and Frostbite, but rather sometime during Shadow Kiss. I have it placed after the whole thing about her seeing ghosts comes out because then she doesn't have to be with Christian 24/7. (And trust me, Christian wouldn't want to be here for this). I'll just leave it at that...;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or its characters. Everything belongs to Richelle Mead.

Fun Size: Rose POV

I am a Hathaway.

My surname is equally feared and respected by dhampir, Moroi, and even Strigoi.

I have been trained to be a guardian in an elite Academy by top-notch instructors since the age of four.

I have escaped death only to face it again and again without showing weakness.

I am skilled. I am capable. I am deadly. I am fearless.

I am… short.

I mean, I'm not really short or anything (at least not by normal standards), but growing up among a race of people known for being tall and lanky can kind of give you a warped view on what "tall" and "short" are.

Sure I was teased for being shorter than average in grade school, but that stopped pretty quickly. After all, it's fairly hard to open your mouth – much less talk – when you're unconscious. Just kidding! However, bruises the size of Alaska on your face can making talking very uncomfortable.

Now? Well, now I just let my presence do the talking. If you act with confidence and have charisma, you can seem bigger than you really are. This, I have found, comes in handy when living in a world of 6-foot-somethings with egos the size of their bank accounts. Of course, even the ones without egos and wealth are taller than me, too. But again, I have learned not to mind it.

Nope, 99% of the time I am perfectly content being 5'7''. The other 1%, however, is for times like this.

While I am considered short around here, it's not something I'm known for because I have so many other defining characteristics. One of them being impatience. I just don't like waiting and when I am forced to, I can get frustrated pretty easily. So when I'm trying to start a workout session and all of the equipment that I need is on the top shelf and my 5'7'' self can't reach said shelf, I can become annoyed in two seconds flat.

I already know that I'm alone, but that doesn't stop me from scanning the gym for someone who could possibly reach the darn box I need. Nope. No one in sight. Whatever. I don't need help. I'm Rose Hathaway after all. If I can kill two Strigoi with an old, dull sword, then I can get a stupid box from a stupid shelf.

First, I check the storage room for possibly a ladder – a step ladder even. No such luck.

"What kind of establishment has shelves that challenge the tower of Babel and no ladder?" I grumble.

Plan B. The storage room may not have a ladder, but it does have rope for when we do rope climbing exercises. I take it back to the shelves, but quickly decide that scaling up to my box would be a bad idea. So instead I fashion the rope into a lasso… of sorts.

Oh no, I think with an eye roll. I've turned into a character from one of Dimitri's Western novels. Whatever. It's not like he's here to laugh at me. I just need to get this box and get on with my workout.

I've never had the desire (or need) to sling a rope around something to get what I want, and it's not like The Art of Lassoing Your Foes to Death is a class around here, so I lose no pride in saying that I have no idea what I'm doing. The only basis I have to go off of is a single western movie. In it, lassoing was pretty much all they did (which is why it's the only western I've ever seen).

Stepping back from the shelves, I begin to spin my lasso (which is surprisingly harder than it looks) and take aim. Though, taking aim with a rope is a lot different than taking aim with, say, a crossbow or a gun (both of which I have been trained to use, by the way). So when I release the rope (something I have not been trained to use) it doesn't exactly go where I want it to. Instead the rope catches on a hook holding a pair of nun-chucks which – guess what – are also out of my reach. Tugging on the rope only makes it grow tighter around the hook, so… I have officially lost plan B.

Mats! The sparring mats are folded nicely and resting along the opposite wall. Why didn't I think of it before? If I can't find a ladder, I'll just have to make one.

I drag the mats one by one over to the shelf and start to stack them. They're fairly thick, so I should get a decent boost from them.

Nope. Not even close.

So I grab some of the boxes from the lower shelves and place those on top of the mats.

Again, I'm too short.

So I put a chair on top of the boxes.

Still can't reach.

So I heap more boxes on the chair. I'm quickly running out of useful stacking material. Soon I'll have to use dumbbells.

I climb to the top of my tower, but stay in a crouched position. One wrong shift of my weight will send this entire thing tumbling to the ground. Dimitri has forced extensive training on my balance (a certain high ropes course comes to mind) so I'm not too worried as I slowly straighten my legs till I'm in a standing position. I am sooo close! So close, in fact, that it's not even worth climbing down and getting another box. I just need to reach a bit more. I push myself up onto my tip toes and stretch my arm as far as it can go.

"Just a little more," I murmur.

My fingers barely graze the bottom of the box when I hear the gym's door open. I jump slightly at the sound and whip my head around to see who is catching me in this precarious position. Mistake.

Before you can say, "Hey, comrade" my tower loses whatever tiny amount stability it has and crashes to the ground, bringing me with it. I only have time to yell out a single curse before I hit the floor and boxes rain down on me (one for every letter of the word I used).

Dimitri quickly rushes over to me and removes all of the boxes. "Rose! Are you okay?" he asks, his gorgeous face tainted with concern.

Groaning, I lift myself into a sitting position and smirk. "Yeah, I'm fine. But I'm gonna have a wicked bruise on my hip tomorrow," I say, rubbing the mentioned spot.

He smiles and instantly his concern turns to amusement. "So now that I know that you don't need me to cart you to the clinic, would you mind telling me why you were standing on such a poorly constructed platform?"

"What are you calling 'poorly constructed'?" I demand. "I'll have you know that my ladder was serving its purpose beautifully until you walked in and distracted me."

"Ah. A ladder. So you were trying to get something that's out of your reach."

I cross my arms. "And if I was?"

He chuckles. "Then I'd ask why you didn't come find me. I can probably reach whatever equipment you're trying to use."

"Cocky much?" I counter, but I'm teasing him, of course. Dimitri has an ego smaller than Gandhi's.

That earns me an eye roll as he pulls me to my feet. "So what did you need?"

I point to my desired box, his eyes follow my finger to it, he presses his lips together, and then he says something that I totally do not expect. "I'm not sure I can reach that."

Understandably, my mouth pops open. "What?! Dimitri Belikov, the skyscraper himself, can't reach something?"

"I'm afraid so," he says, laughing at the new nickname.

I throw my hands up in frustration. "Well then how am I supposed to get the equipment I need? You can't reach it. The Academy apparently doesn't own a ladder. Lassos are a lost cause. I'm tempted to resort to Jedi mind tricks."

He gives me a funny look. "You're into Star Wars?"

I scoff. "Heck no! Weird housemate in Portland."

"I see. And, by the way, to move something you would use the force. Not Jedi mind tricks."

"Whatever," I huff. "It doesn't matter anyway. I have neither of those."

"No," he agrees. "But you have me."

My brow furrows. "Comrade, I know you're upset that we have finally discovered a limit to your power," - I place a mock-sympathetic hand on his arm - "but we already established that even you are too short to get that box."

He takes the hand on his arm into his own and pulls me to him. "Yes, but we aren't too short to get it."

I catch his meaning a second before his hands find my waist and I am lifted off of the floor. I squeak in a brief moment of panic, but quickly remember that Dimitri is the one holding me. I have nothing to worry about.

"Can you reach it?" he asks, raising me above his head.

"No. It's still too far."

He sets me on his shoulders for a moment, and then he moves his hands to the bottoms of my feet.

"Get ready to balance, Rose."

My eyes widen. "I'm not a freaking acrobat, Dimitri! I can't balance on a person!"

"You can. But if you don't want to, I can put you down and we'll move on. You'll have to find some other equipment to work with."

I grit my teeth. "Fine. I was really hoping I could get a matching bruise on my other hip anyway, so this works out great."

"Less sarcasm, more focus."

Ugh. We aren't even training right now and he's talking like a mentor. But I do what he says and ready myself.

"Okay," I tell him, and then I'm in the air again. A little wobbly at first, but I eventually gain my balance enough to find that the box I want is right in front of me.

"Got it," I say, taking it from the shelf. "Now, how am I supposed to get down?"

"Is there anything breakable in the box?"

"No."

"Then drop it." I do as he says. "Okay. Do you trust me, Roza?"

"Of course." My answer is immediate. Dimitri has not yet been in my life a full year, yet I trust him more than I've ever trusted anyone. I trust him with my life. My inner thoughts. My dark secrets.

My heart.

In an abrupt move, he twists me around and lets go, allowing me to fall… into him. His arms come around me and I am pressed flush against his body. My face is so close to his that our hair tangles together, we share the same breath, and my eyes can't focus on the whole of him. I have to choose.

At first I choose his eyes. The deep brown speaks louder than words. I wonder if you can scream a caress because if I have to describe what his eyes are doing to me, that would be it. Passion blares at me with fervor, but it doesn't knock me back like it would have months ago. It holds me, wraps around me, draws me into its embrace.

I then look at his lips. I know my breathing grows thicker as my heart tries to out pace it. I bite my bottom lip and that apparently breaks whatever is holding Dimitri back. A moment later I am pressed between Dimitri and a wall, and his lips are on mine, their movements speaking the passion in his eyes.

My legs wrap around his waist, and while one hand grips his shirt, the other can't help but tangle into his hair. His hands can't seem to decide. I feel them in my hair, on my waist, behind my thigh. It has been too long.

He bites my lip and a gasp of pleasure escapes me which makes him smile. I smile too. Two can play at this game, comrade. I remove my lips from his and immediately place them on his cheek, then is jaw, then his neck, till finally I reach the sensitive skin behind his ear. He gives a satisfying shudder and sighs my name, "Roza."

He kisses me again as if nothing else in his life is as important as this moment, and then he lowers me to the ground, but he doesn't release me. Instead he pulls me to his chest and holds me. And I can honestly say that I've never felt so loved. Sure I've made out with guys before (not like that mind you), but once they find out I'm not going further, they usually move on as fast as possible. No one has ever… withdrawn from the sexual touch in favor of something as simple and pure as a hug. As I press my cheek to his chest, I decide that I like it. And I love him for it.

Eventually he pulls away and smiles down at me. I smile up at him. "What are you thinking?" I ask.

He tucks a mused hair behind my ear. "I'm thinking that I have been wanting to do that since the first time I pressed you into a wall." I laugh. "And you? What are you thinking?"

I step away and walk over to the box that started this whole thing. "I'm thinking that it's not so bad to be short if it means I get to be hoisted up, crushed into the wall, and kissed like that."

He chuckles and joins me by the box. "So what's in here that's so important anyway?"

"Well, I haven't worked on my martial arts in a while." I reach down, open the box, and pull out one of its contents.

"Short sticks," he says.

"What?"

"In Asia, where they first originated as a weapon, they are called tahn bong, but in English that translates to 'short staff' or, more commonly, 'short stick'."

"I always just called them sticks."

He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter since your go-to and most important weapon is your stake, but the technical term for that is a short stick."

All I could do for a straight five minutes after that was laugh, and for the rest of the day, when I thought about it, I laughed then too because the irony certainly wasn't lost on me.

AN: Yay! Finally a Romitri chapter that really is pure fluff! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you liked it:)

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a comment or review. This is my first time, I believe, that I've written them actually kissing. There have been innocent forehead and cheek kisses in the past, but no face sucking and I need some feedback. Good? Bad? Meh? Of course, as always, comments and critique on anything and everything (not just the face macking) are appreciated.

Also, I have NO IDEA why I referenced Star Wars. I don't see Dimitri as a Star Wars nerd or anything, but all of my family members are mild Star Wars nerds so I guess I thought I'd slip some in there. IDK I blame it on the new movie.

Thank you SO SO much for taking the time read! You all are wonderful and I love yah! Have a superb day!