For an explanation of everything, including my suckishness, go to the bottom of this page.

It's a cool afternoon and I'm bored, I decide to go looking for adventure. You know, just to be stupid and get myself into more trouble than usual.

Making sure no one is watching, I slip down the ladder into the tomb. I land as silently as a cat, stumbling just a little. I smile at the familiar and EXHILARATING smell of dirt and dead people.

Straightening, I look around, awed by the purple haze the sinking sun leaves on the walls of the catacombs. There's no one else down here, work session ended about an hour ago. Quietly and calmly, I walk around, trying to imagine what the ancient petro-glyphs could possibly mean. I run my fingers along the cryptic lines, tracing patterns.

"Marion?"

The familiar clenching of my heart, heightened breathing and feverish blush return in one fell swoop as I whip around and see Indy, standing right behind me. He's staring (of course) suspiciously at me. I wave with a guilty wince.

"Hi."

A smile, he's obviously finding the situation amusing. "What are you doing? You're not allowed down here anymore."

I nod. "Yes, that much is true. But I'm just looking for adventure."

"Could you look for adventure in a less dangerous place, maybe?" He asks softly, walking towards me with that same blinding smile.

I shake my head. "What's so dangerous about this place?" I ask back, twirling around in a circle, and then tripping and falling on my ass. Nice, Ravenwood.

He laughs, helping me up. "Your being here is already making this place dangerous enough."

I roll my eyes.

Suddenly, Indy freezes, eyes flickering towards the ladder as the voices of Oxley and Abner drift closer.

"We have to get out of here!" I stage whisper, running towards the sole exit.

"NO!" Indy grabs my arm. "They'll notice us going out. We have to hide somewhere in here."

We glance around frantically, and then simultaneously, our eyes fall upon a cupboard at the southern end of the tomb. Probably filled with shovels, but the thought doesn't occur to me as I dash towards it, dragging Jones after me. I throw open the door and Indy bolts it behind me.

My guess is right; the closet is full of shovels, as well as some buckets of a smelly substance used for cleaning fossils. Not ideal in any way, but decent for now.

We stand in the dim light of the cupboard, trying to gasp for needed air as quietly as possible. The voices of my father and Oxley are now on our level of ground, drifting as they circle the tomb and discuss where they're going to dig next.

In the silence that I dread and fear so much, I watch Indy's dark-looking features with growing interest. I also notice with a start that we are pressed up against each other in the small space that the closet has given us; confined, two feet in width and length at the most. I conclude that in an act of getting away from the bolted door, Indy placed either of his hands on the sides of my head, braced against the cupboard walls. He's too close, not touching me at all, yet too fracking close. I thank my lucky stars for that mere inch of precious space between us.

The voices of the old and young archaeologists fade as they climb the ladder and exit the tomb. After a sigh of laughter and a confirmation that they are gone, Jones and I burst into laughter. It's the contagious kind again, the kind we shared when we got 

soap all over one another in the kitchen God-knows-how-many-months-ago. My sides shake and I add this experience with Indy to my list of favorite ones.

My giggles subside and I lean my forehead on his shoulder, burying my face in his shirt. The contact sends an all-too-familiar jolt through me and I snap back, eyes wide.

His hands are still on either side of my head, and with a mixture of monstrous dread and excitement I realize I'm pinned into a corner. We're still both grinning like idiots, still trying to breath enough air, but doing this without touching one another is almost impossible.

We finally catch our breaths, and in an attempt to tell Indy we should get out of this damn closet, I look up at him.

Wrong move, let me tell you.

Indiana is no longer smiling, but nor is he frowning. He's simply looking at me, his hazel irises set on make-Marion-faint-and-swoon mode as they measure and analyze every bit of my face.

My body is suddenly assaulted with every kind of physical giveaway of my love for this jerk. My knees feel week, my heart breaks out at a frightening pace, my breathing becomes unsteady and quicker than ever before, and my stomach is suddenly filled with so many butterflies that it's a wonder I'm not throwing them right up.

"Marion." He says it lightly and gently, like a favorite scarf to wear on a breezy day.

More heart palpitations...oh Lord; I'm going to die of a coronary if he keeps STARING AT ME! Can't he hear it? That huge thumping that is sounding in my ears?

I open my mouth to say something, but with every centimeter that closes between us, I lose more and more train of thought.

I nod, though at what, I don't even have a clue. It's all I can do.

And then, he smiles. Not the big cocky grin like usual, just a small but crooked twist of his lips; wry and pleased.

Before I can say another word, before I can gain my sanity back or even comprehend what the F-ing hell is going on, I'm kissing him.

I can feel my restraint on certain emotions suddenly crumbling. I can feel myself crumbling along with it. I have to get out of here...I can't give in...I can't...do...this...

"Indy." His muttered name is lost as his lips remain pressed to mine.

He simply responds by settling a hand on my waist and caressing it. His touch on the bare skin at my hip (my shirt has ridden up just a little) sends numerous shivers down my spine.

Before I can stop it, right there, right after that small but incredibly sweet gesture of his, the internal rubber band of peace deep inside me snaps.

And I finally begin to kiss him back.

I'm numb, not having expected this at all. I simply follow the chanting voices in my head and launch myself into the kiss, locking my arms around his neck.

Behind my closed lids, it's more or less like watching the explosion of the entire universe. Colors of crazy amounts fly around my head, hitting me like splashes of water, and my ears are now roaring like the hot blood that is rushing up to my face. My pulse rings throughout my body like the beating and pounding of a huge drum. The butterflies that were previously filling me now eat me alive; making every part of me that is touching him crackle with static.

Once I recover from the internal shock, I realize that I'm missing shit loads of things that are going on outside my mind.



Let me just say that it's both worse and better than the catastrophic things that are happening in my head. Indy's lips are chapped slightly, moving against mine in a way that I find surprising; gentle and unrushed. Oddly tentative as well, his arms are now wrapped all the way around the small of my back and waist.

And as mind-blowing and insanely wonderful this all is, it's JUST NOT ENOUGH.

Yeah, you could say I'm a greedy miser in a way.

I pull myself closer, knotting my small fingers in his sienna brown hair, probably making it messier than ever. In this confined space, the feeling of not having enough space is replaced with one of having TOO MUCH of it.

I can tell he's rather smug about all this by the way he grins into my lips at my fierce response.

Arrogant bastard.

But it's far too late. I can't stop myself, I'm beyond reason.

Time is either frozen completely, or passing in such large bouts that mere eons have gone by. It suddenly dawns on me how long we've probably been kissing. As in passionate, crazed, corny-music-in-the-background KISSING.

The realization hits like a club, shattering my blind ardor for the guy I'm kissing and bringing back my old, much loved, pig-headed sense.

With a sudden and angry burst of will, I shove him off me. The stuffy oxygen of the cupboard rushes into my lungs and I vaguely wonder how long I haven't been breathing. Jones looks just as winded as I do, if not more so.

I struggle to find my voice. The majority of me just wants to pull his face back to mine again.

"Marion?"

Oh, God if he says my name like that one more time...

"Need some air." I squeak, avoiding any further contact as I scramble out of the closet.

I nearly sprint out of the tomb, not looking back even as Indy calls my name. I trip to the car, grateful that the keys are already in the ignition.

Without another glance, I drive out of the camp, the engine's roaring similar to the roaring that is still lingering in my head. I roll the windows down and enjoy the feel of the wind whipping my hair around my face with a stinging indifference. I just need to get out of here, clear my head, that's all.

As I try to reassure myself of what I really want, several things start to truly sink in.

A) I just had my first real kiss.

B) I just had my first real kiss with Indiana Jones.

C) I just had my first real kiss with Indiana Jones in a shovel storage closet.

….

Ha, go figure.

A/N: Seeing as this is a really big, doubly long and doubly important chapter for this story, I suggest you all review. And I mean EVERYONE. PLEASE? Oh, and let me know of any evil typos that I didn't eradicate.

P.S.- for an explanation of my delayed updates, please go to my profile.