Because we all need to see this. Like right now. Right now. Enjoy. :) Does anybody else know the song by Ashanti called "Rain on Me"? I thought of that song as I wrote this. Bits and pieces of that song reminded me of this.

"Would you like a glass of wine, Leftenant?" Crane handed it to her.

She took it, gave him a small smile. He put his own glass in the grass before he sat beside her; she pressed the rim to her bottom lip, but then she sat her glass next to Crane's.

"Would you prefer something else to drink?"

She shook her head, glanced at the cloudy sky.

"You've been sitting out here in the rain an awful lot lately."

Crane would spot Abbie sitting in the grass while it poured. He didn't go outside with her. He let her be, watched her. When the rain stopped, she's slowly walked into the house, shivered with dripping clothes and mud stains on the back of her pants. He waited for her with a towel, made her tea, and fixed her a napkin full of roasted honey almonds. After they competed in chess, she went to shower.

She stared into her wine. "The rain is coming."

He examined the clouds. "It appears so."

"When the Catabombs finally got to me, I couldn't feel anything. I get in that space sometimes, so I come out here."

"Would you like me to leave?"

She drinks her wine. "Stay."

"My presence doesn't bother you out here?"

She swallows more wine. "I feel more."

"Is it enough?"

She put her glass back in the grass. "Quite, but not quite."

"What do you need, Leftenant?"

She peeked at the sky again. "The rain is almost here."

"Abbie?"

She watched her wine again. "Kiss me."

Crane's fingers twitched. He wanted to honor her request, but he couldn't.

"Abbie,—"

She chuckled. "You and your damn propriety."

"Please, don't misunderstand me, Leftenant. I do wish to kiss you, but not in this state. I would feel as though I am taking advantage."

"I know what I'm doing, Crane." She gulped more wine.

"If you are positive."

She stood to her knees and turned to face him; he copied her. Thunder sounded. She grabbed one of his hands; he squeezed it before she let go of it. Lightening flashed. Her cheeks were soft when his hands covered them. Wind blew. They met the other's forehead and closed eyes; Crane glided his nose against hers; she sighed, let her nails play in his beard. Lips bumped. Once, twice. They stopped. Rain started to fall. Crane held her waist; Abbie staggered closer to him. She felt his breath fill and leave his chest; he felt hers. They stared and stopped breathing for a second. Then she kissed him with wildness he didn't mind and grasped his hair in palm fulls. Heavy rain spilled. His tongue knocked against hers; the wine and the fumble of her tongue drunk him. She gave his chest a slight push. He stopped kissing her; she pushed him until he lay in the grass with her on top, both legs on the side of his hips. Her hands imprinted their shape in the mud as her tongue stroked against his. He groaned; his hands squeezed the back of her thighs, her butt. She bit his lip.

"Crane."

More thunder. More wind. More rain. All of her feeling was beginning to return. His hands slid up her clingy shirt. He kissed her neck, sucked raindrops off her skin. She dug her nails in the mud. Thunder. Lightening. He stopped kissing her.

"Perhaps we shall take this inside before lightening strikes us?"

She kissed him once more before she got off him. They stood up; Abbie wiped her hands on her shirt. She tried to remove some of the dirt off Crane's coat, but he shook his head.

"Think nothing of it."

"You like this coat."

He turned to face her. She yelped when he picked her up bridal-style. "Would you like to know something, Leftenant?"

"You have mud in your hair, too." She picked at the back of his head. "Tell me."

"I want to listen to the storm and make love to a beautiful woman. I desire to observe you climax as the thunder roars above us. I want to caress you in so many places with my fingers, my teeth, my tongue, my manhood: all until you feel again, until you can't stop feeling."

"Rain on me."

He walked her into their home, leaving their wine glasses to overflow.