Disclaimer: I do not own Anne of Green Gables.
A/N: Anne and Diana are meant to be approximately fifteen.
"Do you think we've matured very much?" Their faces were in close enough proximity on Anne's pillow, that, as she spoke, her lips almost brushed against Diana's. Without squinting through the dark, they were easily able to see into each other's eyes, and Diana could practically count the seven freckles on Anne's otherwise perfect nose. "I mean, do you think there's a noticeable difference?" It had been quite a while since they'd shared a bed, so Anne would probably keep Diana awake for hours, until they'd leave barely enough time to sleep before sunrise.
"I think so," Diana answered contemplatively. "We've learned so many lessons, and don't find ourselves in nearly as much trouble as we used to. My imagination no longer runs away with me, when I walk through the Haunted Wood."
"Childhood feels suddenly behind us, like a faraway dream," Anne agreed in her famously romantic tone, "but I meant physically."
"Oh, yes, I think we've matured quite a bit. We've grown taller, and your hair has turned such a handsome auburn."
"Oh, thank you, Diana," Anne beamed inwardly, as she always did when her painfully red hair was referred to as auburn, "but I meant, well, we're more womanly, now." By the pale moonlight, Diana could see that Anne's face was practically red as her curls.
"Oh, you mean..." Diana's naturally rosy face also turned a deeper shade of red. "Yes, I suppose we've also matured in that respect."
"You, especially," Anne complimented. "You have such womanly curves, and your breasts are already twice the size of my own."
"That's just because I'm fatter than you." Diana pouted.
"Your body is beautiful, Diana, and you have the face of a doll; with your porcelain complexion, rosy, dimpled cheeks, long lashes, and gradient lips. Oh, how I've always envied your raven hair and dark, soulful eyes."
"You have more beauty than you're able to see in yourself, Anne. Your nose is exquisitely shaped, as you know, but your hair curls beautifully, and I've always envied your slender physic. I'm sure you'll have ever so many beaus."
"Not as many as you, I'm sure." Anne sighed. "Anyway, I sometimes think men are the lucky ones."
"Why?" Diana's eyebrows knitted with confusion and curiosity.
"It'd be lovely to feel yourself a beautiful woman, but it's even more lovely, I think, to be able to admire another's beauty from afar. Men aren't very aesthetic, so I often wonder if I'd rather be a man, and able to court a lady, than be with man, you know?"
For some misplaced reason, Diana's face burned intensely hot, and she felt oddly defensive of the opposite sex. "Well, I think men can be quite beautiful, too."
"I suppose," Anne admitted, "but masculine beauty isn't the same as feminine beauty." Silence fell upon them for only a brief moment. "Diana, may I confide in you?"
"Of course," Diana said honestly, despite her apprehension toward Anne's question, and growing discomfort with their proximity.
"I sometimes imagine what it might be like, to have been born a boy. It'd be nicer to court a lady, I think, than be courted by a man. The other day, I saw a beautiful lady on her way from the inn, and thought that, if I were a man, I'd have felt compelled to bend down on one knee, and propose to her. It was such a disappointment to think that, even if I were just a bit older, I wouldn't have been able to, since I myself am female."
"Anne!" Diana gasped somewhat incredulously, and Anne, blushing more deeply, smiled sheepishly at her. "You shouldn't think that way about other ladies."
"But, they're just so beautiful to look at, Diana, and you know how I love to look upon beauty. Oh, you should've seen this lady... Chestnut brown curls, and eyes like emeralds." Diana's face burned more hotly, and her eyes filled with even hotter tears, which she couldn't blink away, without risk of them trailing down her rosy cheeks. She wordlessly rolled over, onto her opposite side, to face away from Anne, who suddenly felt stricken. "Oh, Diana, how you must see me, now. Are you that disappointed in me? It's not as though I would actually propose to a woman."
"If you were a man, and you were to propose to a woman, would it be the lady from the inn?" There was an unmistakable bite to Diana's voice, which could only be construed as jealousy.
"No," Anne said with sincerity, "if I were to propose to a woman, you would always be my first choice."
Diana blinked the tears out of her eyes, and rolled back toward Anne. "Do you mean that?"
"Of course, Diana. Haven't I told you so many times, I could never love any girl more than you?"
"Oh, Anne," Diana giggled, as a thought suddenly came to mind, "how would you propose to me? What would you say?"
"I would bend down on my knee," Anne assumed said position in bed, then took Diana's dainty hand into her own, "take your hand, shower you with words of love and admiration, then promise to be faithful to you for the rest of our lives, should you accept my request." Anne subconsciously clasped Diana's hand more tightly. "Tell me, Diana, what would you say to that?"
"Why, of course, I'd say yes," Diana answered, clearly offended by Anne's doubt.
"Then, may I kiss the bride?" Diana shyly nodded, and pressed her lips lightly against Anne's, where they lingered for a moment that felt like an eternity. "Oh, you'd make me the happiest man in the world!"
"I know I'd be happy with you, too, if you were a man."
"What if you were the man?" Anne wondered aloud. "Oh, can't you see me the way a man does a woman? Do you not think I'm pretty enough?"
"Don't be silly, Anne, you know I think you're beautiful." Diana blushed. "Still, it isn't Christian to look at you that way."
"I want you to look at me that way, Diana." Anne slipped her nightgown over her head, and sat nervously with her naked torso exposed. Diana gasped, but didn't look away, to Anne's apparent satisfaction. "Won't you let me see your own body?" Diana blushed furiously, and finally averted her eyes in embarrassment, but wordlessly slipped her own nightgown over her head. "Oh, Diana," gasped Anne, "your breasts are lovely." She reached out reflexively, but abruptly stopped herself. "May I touch you?" Diana shyly nodded. "My bosom friend," Anne whispered affectionally, as she cupped Diana's ample breasts, and tweaked her tiny, rosebud nipples; caressed her curvy waste, and let a hand slip down her bloomers. Diana gasped in a mixture of surprise, panic, shame, excitement, and instantaneous pleasure. Her moans, though quite unceremonious, were music to Anne's ears, like the spontaneous soul of jazz. Anne wanted to play Diana like an instrument. "I want to see the rest of you," Anne explained, as she slowly removed her friend's bloomers. Diana shyly spread her legs, and a flower appeared to bloom quickly before Anne's eyes. The redhead sniffed its dewy, pink petals, the way she would any other flower, and felt herself rather intoxicated by the bittersweet fragrance. Hungry for more, she hesitantly licked Diana's forbidden fruit, finding the taste equally bittersweet. Diana's thighs quivered on either side of Anne's head, as she continued to moan unceremoniously. Within minutes, she was brought to that starry headspace that accompanied a rapturous orgasm.
"Oh, Anne," Diana gasped, at a loss for any other words.
"I love you, Diana," Anne reminded her bosom friend, as they laid back down beside each other. Their faces were now close enough on the pillow, that their lips actually touched, and Diana could taste herself on Anne's.
"I love you, too, Anne."
They soon drifted off to sleep in each other's arms, lulled by a chorus of chirping crickets and croaking bullfrogs, which sounded outside Anne's open window, whose curtains swayed in the warm breeze. The sun would rise in only a few hours, and eclipse the moonlight's romantic spell, but they would surely dream of each other, and a kiss shared under a flowery arbor.