A/N: Well, it had to happen eventually. The end. I kind of fell in love with these sweet creations as I wrote them and now that it's over, I don't want to let them go. Of course, there's a short epilogue I've been planning. Provided you want it! If you want it, tell me, please. This chapter is the shortest, I believe, but that's not to say it didn't take a lot out of me to write. It's almost bittersweet, but I hope you find all the sweetness in it. I dabbled in Logan's point of view for the last portion, so that may or may not have ended well.

I cannot begin to thank you all. For everything. Even if you hated my writing, I thank you for sticking up for yourself and not reading my story. I'm big on people having their own opinions, so good for you. But especially if you enjoyed it, loved it even, I don't know how to say thank you to all of you. You made it easier to write, knowing that some people were waiting for what came next. There's been a few "guest" reviews for the chapters that have really melted my cynicism and since I can't thank you personally, I'm thanking you here. Whoever you are, I very vainly read over your comments again and again because they made me smile whenever I was having a bad day. And I was really sick this past week, so I was feeling very much in need of happiness.

With all that thanking out of the way, I've got to warn you that it gets a little hot and heavy down at the last scene. It's not graphic or vulgar or anything, but I wouldn't want my fifteen-year-old sister to read it. Hell, I wouldn't want my nineteen-year-old sister reading it. But I think that's mainly because I'd be too embarrassed. So you've been thoroughly warned! Although I did try and make it as sweet as possible. We'll call it lemonade. Watered, sugared up lemon.

I have a setlist for you with this chapter. Well, songs I would like you to listen to for each of the three scenes:

1st scene: "Take What You Can Carry" | The Maine
2nd scene: "Human" | The Killers
3rd scene: "Love Love Love" | Of Monsters and Men

Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! And may your heart be as swollen as Logan's and his Ace's.


Through playful lips made of yarn, that fragile capricorn

unravelled words like moths upon old scarves.

I know the world's a broken bone,

but melt your headaches, call it home.

Northern Downpour | Panic! at the Disco

Your Body is a Symphony

"Logan, I can't see," Rory whined for the fifth time since entering the airport. A red and black bandanna sat clamped around her head, distressing her eyesight severely. It was a lie when they said when you lose one of your five senses the other four freak out and heighten. She was still as clumsy as ever and the only reason she hadn't hit Logan was because he stood behind her, guiding their bodies to wherever they were headed.

After the wedding cleared, Logan and Rory, now married, waved goodbye and got into Logan's car. They drove and drove for over an hour listening to all sorts of music and talking about nonsense things until they reached Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts. Rory hadn't missed the humour, no.

"I know, that's kind of the whole point. I don't want you to have any idea where we're going," Logan said as he steered Rory round a bend. Rory quieted finally when Logan's hands started rubbing up and down her arms.

Their suitcases rattled in front of Rory on a trolly and she tried desperately to see through the fabric covering her face.

Logan let out a contended sigh and stopped them, letting Rory go and moving beside her. Rory knew where he had gone only because he immediately took ahold of her hands and moved them forward. She stumbled a little, still not entirely used to not being able to see a damn thing, but they reached a sort of desk and Logan gently placed Rory's hands against the cool smooth surface.

"Oh, you need to put these in now," Rory heard shuffling and could see a dark shape dancing through the bandanna. Logan grabbed one of her hands and dropped two squishy objects, pushing her fingers closed around them.

"What are these, Logan?" She asked impatiently, tapping her foot like the diva she was at the moment.

"Right, right," Logan sounded exasperated. Good. "They're ear plugs."

Rory groaned and let her head fall back. It felt weird doing that when she couldn't see, like she was falling into nothing, just blackness. She shook her head and looked in the direction she believed Logan stood.

"Why on earth do I need earplugs now? Are you trying to turn me into Hellen Keller? Will you soon be cutting my vocal chords?" Rory asked, twisting her head around dramatically and reaching her hand out to touch Logan's jacket. She slid her hand up and down the coat feeling the softness of whatever material it was tickle the minuscule hairs on her fingers.

"Touching me is not going to make me take off the blindfold, Ace," Rory's hand dropped from his jacket and she humphed, folding her arms against her chest defiantly and standing with her legs tightly pulled together. Maybe he'd get the hint that they'd stay closed if he didn't tell her what in the bloody hell was going on. "Come on, Ace. You look like I've just declared war on you and your family, which, by the way, would be stupid seeing as how I'm your family. I need the earplugs in your ears so you don't hear me talking to this wonderful lady at the check-in desk about where we're going."

"Well, maybe you should've married her instead," Rory's baby voice, mocking and squeaky, slapped across Logan's face. She heard him let out a chuckle and frowned.

Logan smoothed his thumb across Rory's cheekbone and immediately she felt like melting to the floor. "That's what I thought," Logan said smugly, tracing the outline of Rory's lips. Desperately, Rory held a breath to calm her heart down. She grappled and contemplated how best to attack her husband, but then her chest felt like a drum because she realised that Logan was her husband. HUSBAND!

"Put them in, Ace. Please?" Logan never said please.

Rory wanted to complain, but she did as she was told and uncrossed her arms to put in the plugs. Noises became muffled around her and she looked around as if she were in a dream. She imagined people milling about behind her eyes, their suitcases catching on someone's feet and tripping them up. She watched mothers and daughters and brothers and fathers gathering together and promising to stick together. Girlfriends and boyfriends, husbands and wives telling each other goodbye, kissing away tears and regrets.

Something touched her hand and immediately a fire ignited in her soul. Rory squashed all the images in her mind and tried to focus on what Logan was saying. Everything was so distorted, she could only catch glimpses of the conversation.

"Yeah…feels weird…doesn't know…I hope…happy…" and so forth. He clamped his hand around hers and started speaking again. It was louder than before and she could tell he had turned around. He must be speaking to her.

"Yeah, Logan, bud, I can't hear you," she said as quiet as possible without screaming to hear herself. Logan let go of her hand and a coldness washed over her until sounds began ricocheting around her ears and it took her a moment, one filled with shock and worry, to realise Logan had removed the earplugs.

"Better?" He asked and Rory nodded her head. Logan's feet moved somewhere and a second later she was being hugged tight by muscular arms. She inhaled and let calm blow over her like a soft sea breeze.

"Your arms make everything better," Rory lulled into Logan's ear. He laughed tenderly and released her.

"Come on, we have to get on an aeroplane," Logan pulled on Rory and they began moving again, this time with Rory holding on to Logan as he pushed the trolly ahead.

"And you're sure this isn't some secret plot to murder me?" She asked suspiciously, stroking a finger up his arm and into his hair, teasing him. A smile, a grin rather, fled to her lips when she felt him shiver beneath her touch.

"What?" His voice cracked a little and he moved his head away from Rory's titillating fingertips.

"I wouldn't put it past you!" She squeaked in search of his head again. Soft hair met the outward thrusts of her hand but he continued to shake her off.

"You wouldn't put it past me to murder you on our wedding night?"

They had stopped moving and Rory felt grazes of bodies brush against her, tilting her this way and that.

"It's like Frankenstein," she said childishly, nodding her head in a very Gilmore way.

"When was the last time you read Frankenstein, Ace? The monster kills Elizabeth, not Victor." Something ruffled her hair and for a moment the bandanna lifted from her eyes. Bright eyes shone right there and she caught glimpses of several people bustling about, confused and angry expressions plastered on their faces. Logan leaned in close and murmured sarcastically, "You should be more worried about the beast I created without your knowledge who's on a rampage to kill everyone I love."

Without giving her a chance to explore this newfound sight, Logan pushed the cloth back down against her nose and touched their foreheads together.

Rory immediately forgot everything. Nothing, just nothing filled her brain. It was all Rory and Logan.

She could feel his breath at her lips and an ache spread all around.

Four weeks, three days, seventeen hours, and 12 minutes.

Blindly, she searched for his head and impatiently pulled his lips forward. There was an umph! and a bit of teeth on teeth action, but they eventually let their lips meet.

It was a soft brush, almost as if they weren't kissing each other, but puckering up to the air surrounding them, but it elicited a series of pinpricks along the expanse of Rory's skin. She held Logan close to her after their lips parted, but he pulled away and tugged her arm so suddenly that she nearly fell over.

"Hey!" She called to him and could hear the snickers escape his mouth. "You…You didn't even know Frankenstein wasn't the monster until I met you! You can't use that knowledge against me now!" She called to him knowing everyone in the airport could most definitely hear them.

"I'm in a fragile state of blindness, Logan. No fair!" She whimpered, but he just held on and led them to whatever gate they needed to find.

O-O-O

"Ace, wake up," a voice whispered in her ear. It tickled the flesh and she swatted at the breath. Her hand contacted something hard and she heard a yelp. "Ow," the voice exclaimed. Her mouth twitched up for some reason as the familiar voice retreated away from her.

She opened her eyes slowly, letting in her surroundings. People were sitting down and there was a lack of flight attendants shuffling around. The Fasten Seatbelt sign was glowing above her eyes and she looked over to her right, seeing Logan still rubbing at his red cheek.

"I'm sorry, Logan. I didn't mean to hit you. You should know better by now than to wake a sleeping Gilmore," she chastised, waving a finger in his direction and plopping him on the nose.

"Yeah, it's like trying to get a grizzly out of hibernation. I was trying to get you up for about ten minutes but you just kept on growling at me and bearing your teeth." Rory feigned an annoyed look, but excitement was circulating in her belly.

"We're here?" She asked impatiently, watching Logan's eyes warm as he stared at her. He didn't say anything for a while and neither did she. She still had no clue where they were. Well, she knew they were somewhere in Europe.

The first time they had landed, the aeroplane descended steeply on to a runway at Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino airport in Italy. Rory jumped up from her seat when the flight attendants announced where they were, only to have her spirits be put down when Logan tied the bandanna around her eyes again. Then they were in Athens and Rory had nearly cried, always having dreamt of going to Greece with someone she loved dearly.

Now she was tired of having the bandanna splat around her head every time the plane landed. It'd been hours, goddamned hours since she'd breathed air outside an airport.

A heavily accented voice buzzed through the intercom of the smallish plane and Rory held her breath, waiting to hear where they were finally.

"Ladies and gentleman, we will be making our final descent into the Greek island Naxos in about fifteen minutes. Please remember that you must stay seated and we hope you have enjoyed your flight aboard Olympic Air."

Rory, tired and worn out Rory, whose morning had been dictated by parents and nerves, whose head felt like an elephant decided to just plop down and sleep for a while, whose body was tired from dancing and whose heart was swollen from the amount of love that had been pumped into it, looked at Logan with raised eyebrows.

Logan stared at her, worried creases lining his forehead. He looked scared. Was he afraid of her reaction? Did he think she would dislike where he was taking her?

She took in a deep breath and finally let the goofy smile she'd been holding in since the pilot announced where they were spread across her face. Logan instantly calmed and she could feel the breath he released. "Naxos?" She asked, grabbing his arm and squeezing.

He placed his hand over hers and leaned toward her. "Naxos." He affirmed, pressing their foreheads together and allowing their breaths to mingle.

"Why here?" She asked, shock settling in.

Logan closed his eyes and she mirrored the movement, listening to Logan's voice vibrate through her. "We were watching television one time. . ." he broke off, running his hand down and then up Rory's arm. Goosebumps went off like fireworks and she wanted so badly to hate him for unknowingly teasing her in this fragile state of wanton womanhood she was in, but her lungs were being squeezed.

"That's such an interesting story, Logan."

She felt him laugh and she smiled even wider. "I was just gathering my thoughts. Sorry, I just, it's been so long," he whispered, "I need to contain myself."

Against her will, Rory sounded off an unattractive laugh that snorted through her nose. "Well, finish telling me this story before we inevitably crash-land. I wanna know why Naxos."

Logan rested his hand on Rory's cheek and she moved her head to nestle into his touch. "We were watching T.V. one time way back when, like, we had literally just started going out. I can't even remember what we were watching, but I remember what you wearing. Not that that's pertinent to the story. Anyway," he continued, laughing like Logan always did when he was nervous, "I was sitting to your left and you were fiddling with my hair when you suddenly changed the channel, sighting a need to refresh your brain or something. It landed on some BBC documentary about Greece. It was old. Eighties old, but you stuck with it. When it got the part about Naxos, I watched your face light up. Suddenly you were all attentive and interested. You weren't looking at me when you said it and I think you even forgot I was there, but you whispered, 'That's it.' I looked at you confused, but you still refused to acknowledge my existence and then said more clearly, 'Honeymoon. Yeah, I can see myself liking that.' Which meant you loved it. And that kind of stuck with me."

Rory opened her eyes to find Logan's already watching her intently. The crease was back on his forehead like he was worried telling her that would ruin it or something. The woman sitting before this terrified boy didn't know how to react. What was the proper thing to say when someone told you a story so full of emotion and history that your throat constricted and your brain threatened to fall out your ears?

"Stuck with you," Rory began, moving her hands to cup Logan's face. She closed her eyes again and breathed, "for ten years?" She didn't wait for his response before she kissed him.

His lips tasted like forever. Like promises and life. Like Logan.

She parted his lips forcefully with her tongue and deepened the kiss, not caring for the first time who was watching. Her belly filled with something that warmed her entire body, like a fire had been started somewhere deep in her soul. His arms wrapped around her neck and she could feel herself being lifted out of her chair. A tightening around her legs reminded her of where they were. She slumped back down on her seat and released Logan's mouth, leaning back against the headrest and attempted to calm her breathing.

Dramatically, she placed the back of her hand on her forehead and turned her neck to look at Logan who appeared frozen. "I don't even remember that," she admitted, feeling the warmth in her cheeks. She lifted her hand to Logan's face and let her fingers dance across Logan's swollen lips. She felt him shudder at her touch.

"I guessed that when we got to Athens and you started getting excited. I was actually really scared you were going to hate this. You should've seen your face when I put the blindfold back on," Logan smiled the way Logan always smiled when he was nervous and Rory was transported back in time to when they first started dating. When Logan was afraid to hold her hand in public or kiss her where one of his friends might see. It didn't take long for him to become a protective, loving, caring boyfriend, but Rory never really thought about how much he'd changed from their first meeting to when they broke up.

"I still feel like I'm twenty when I'm with you," she said out of the blue, her fingers still dancing on Logan's face. He grabbed her palm and pressed a kiss against her skin.

"And I still feel like a horny teenager when I'm with you."

Rory slapped his face lightly, but her smile gave away her real stance on his joke. They remained quiet for the rest of the descent, holding hands and watching the world outside the aeroplane window. A glow of orange had settled against the clouds as if an angel had come down from Heaven with a paintbrush and swept his bristles across the sky. It looked like a pool of clouds grazed by a setting sun, the warmth radiating from the scenery soaking Rory's heart.

O-O-O

She had fallen asleep when Logan started to drive the Fiat he'd rented for their stay in Naxos. He peeked at her every now and again to check she was still breathing. His breath would catch until he saw her chest rise and then fall. It was an irrational fear he had, but since he and Rory started up their relationship again, he always worried she'd die in her sleep. Nothing really caused the anxiety, but maybe it was the lingering depression he'd felt for years after she'd refused his proposal. As stupid as it was, his mind couldn't help but think she'd disappear from him if he didn't look at her enough.

The ring on his left hand was irritating him greatly and he kept on being distracted by the weight. He fiddled with it nervously, wondering if it was a bad sign that already he was uncomfortable with they symbolism of marriage. But then he remembered that he was married. It wasn't just a daydream anymore, something he used to think up when he was single and abstinent. She was right there next to him, breathing and living his life.

A final twist in the road got him to the cottage his father had suggested to him and upon first glance he almost thought he'd taken a wrong turn. The place was small and in the dark night sky it looked humble. Unlike anything Mitchum Huntzberger had ever stepped inside. But it was the right place. When he put the car in park, he stepped out the vehicle to get a good look at the place before waking the grizzly.

Logan could smell the sea air the minute he opened the door and sunk his feet into the sandy floor. A light breeze blew across him and his hair flopped a little, the wind tickling his scalp like Ace's fingers. The remote cottage stood a quarter-mile from the beach and he could see figures dancing along the shore in the nighttime. He smiled then, not able to help himself. It had taken a long time to get here, his honeymoon.

The moon hung in the sky like a lightbulb, shining harsh light on the dark beach. A perfect reflection of a black and white Mark Rothko painting shone on the water's surface, spreading out into squiggles of nothingness. Waves crashed and people laughed, lovers forgetting their morning spats for a night of forgiveness and romance.

He stepped a little away from the Fiat, looking over his shoulder once, making sure Ace was still there, and moved around the cottage. The stony walls cemented with two windows and a door reminded Logan of the place Colin Firth's character had in Love Actually. It breathed a sense of security, of love. He could tell people had come here before to use this home as their own, getting lost in frenzies and moans.

This thought awakened the coil in his belly and he turned to the car again. He needed her. There was absolutely no denying that fact. She had the last time they had sex on a countdown, but his brain was so fuzzy from the loss of her not just sex, that he could barely remember what day of the week it was. Jet-lag wore on him tonight, his body still awake and buzzing even as he watched his wife sleep in the car. He had to wake her, though, if this whole "consummating the marriage" thing were going to work properly.

Logan went to the passenger side door and opened it gently, not wanting to startle her awake and have her attack him again. Although he had whispered in her ear on the plane and that didn't end so well. This was different, though. It was not his mind fueling him now, it was the thing below his waste, the thing that even now throbbed with want despite nothing there except a sleeping girl to arouse him, so he threw caution to the wind and unstrapped her from the seat and further still swooped her up in his arms.

She let out a shriek as she broke from sleep, but his hold stopped her from flailing around. Her eyes searched frantically for something, something Logan couldn't see. Then her gaze landed on him, and she relaxed completely. All tiredness was gone from her face, she was alert and ready. A lazy smile curved her lips and he bent his head to kiss her once before moving them both to the cottage. He slammed the the car door shut with his foot.

Realising they needed the key, he whispered in Rory's ear, "Ace, could you grab the key in my pocket? The right pocket." He noticed her frown but then felt a hand groping his thigh through the skin of his trouser leg and found he didn't care in the slightest. She handed him the key and he fiddled with the lock until he heard a click in the distance and opened the door. Rory's hand went out in search of a light switch and suddenly the entire room set ablaze.

They entered the cottage and Logan set his Ace down so she could wander around. He watched her take in everything there was, but paid no attention to the room himself. His mind kept filling with memories, memories of him and the woman standing a mere ten feet away, whose hands were delicately grazing the stone walls. Her head tilted and he saw her eyes squint as she bent down to get a look at the cracks.

Her head turned to face him and he stared, unabashed. "Logan, check this out." She curled a finger in his direction and he had no choice but to move his legs to her. He approached her slowly, drinking her in as she was right now, dressed in worn jeans and a loose camisole with a flowing cardigan hanging from one shoulder. When he finally got to her, he leaned down. "Do you see it?" She asked, her fingertip scratching the stone.

Logan squinted as she did and finally sees it. "Names," he said curiously, setting his own finger along the indented slab. There were tons of them just carved into the home; signatures, initials, hearts. Lovers lost and won here in this place, their mark forever implanted.

It took him a moment to notice Rory's hand was no longer on the wall. He removed his watch from the names and flicked his eyes to his wife. She was standing at her full height, which wasn't much, but there was a defiant look in her blue eyes. She stared at him longingly, like at that moment in time they were the only people to ever have set foot in this place. Like that wall was theirs to mark.

Her hair was wrapped up in a ponytail, but with all the moving around and time spent on aeroplanes, wisps blew down her neck, brushing her shoulders in soft kisses. Logan smiled at her, giddy that what stood before him belonged to him. Not in that hostile way, but in the way that made his heart constrict whenever he would catch her watching him.

She looked like a drill sergeant, but Logan could see the little tremors as she tugged at the cardigan surrounding her body. He stepped closer and admired how her body shook, how it literally shook for him.

"It's rude to stare," she said, her voice wavering in and out of frequency. Instead of using some witty comeback as he normally would, his body ached so badly for her that the minute he reached her, he grabbed her face and pulled her in, connecting their mouths finally.

His heart thudded, thudded, thudded. He could hear it in his ears, feel it in the tips of his fingers, striking and pounding his skin. The heat from her body washed over him and her scent filled his nostrils with lemongrass and mint. He smiled against her mouth and moved his attention to her jaw, trailing his lips down her neck, leaving barely there kisses, breathing through her skin and letting her whimpers fill his head.

She grappled at his hair and he fought the urge to take her then and there when her fingers dragged along his scalp. He moved his hands from her face and slid his fingertips down her sides, lifting her shirt with his thumbs and playfully scraping her ribcage. He could feel the mesmerising speed of her own heart through her skin.

Her hands left his hair and instead moved to tear off her clothes. Lifting his mouth from her neck, he aided in her struggle, yanking her shirt over her head and skillfully unclasping her bra as he held her body to him. He felt her scratching at his back and let go of her for just one moment so he could pull his own shirt off. She greedily pulled him back to herself and the warmth of her bare skin on his sent a series of goosebumps down the expanse of his flesh.

"Say it," he whispered huskily in her ear as she left openmouthed kisses everywhere she could reach.

"Say what?" She asked breathlessly, her hands traveling down his front, landing at the edge of his trousers. He could hear the snapping of his belt falling to the floor and felt his pants loosen.

He trailed his fingers down her arms and grabbed her wrists, holding them against his chest so that she could get a sense of what her movements were doing to his heart. He stared at her mercilessly, willing her to open her mouth. Her hair had almost completely fallen out of its hold, dark chocolate tendrils framing her heated face. He let his hands slip to hers and he held on, squeezing her bones gently. Everything about her was warm, inviting.

"I need you," she murmured, her eyes sliding closed as if all the pressure, the angst that had built up between them, was too much for her to handle. "I want you." Her firm words pulled Logan from his dream and he let himself kiss her again, dragging out the motion for minutes, hours, letting his breath seep down her throat and fill her with his life. He took his hands from hers and guided them down to where his trousers hung haphazardly on his hips. She took the hint and busily worked them down, his boxers following shortly after.

Then it was her turn to get his hands. She tugged on them, setting his palms on fire as she led them down the space between her breasts, across the plane of her stomach, and finally to her jeans. He popped the button open and teasingly slow got the zipper down. When he gave the jeans one last jerk, she was breathing so heavily into his ear that it overpowered the drumming of his heart.

When there were no clothes, no barricades between them, he kissed her again, laying them both on the soft carpet beneath their feet. She tasted like freedom and home, and when he deepened the kiss, her fingers dancing down his stomach, his muscles contracting as she went further and further down, he felt complete. Everything that had happened to them, to him, it didn't matter anymore. Now he was here, now he had her finally, there was nothing else to care about.

Sucking her bottom lip, he listened to her moans of pleasure as he let his hands grip her waste, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh. He rested a leg between her thighs and pulled her closer to him, getting their bodies to align perfectly. She let go of him and raced her hands back to his face, forcing him to look at her.

With a panting breath, she whispered, "I love you," as sweat lit flame to her skin.

Tears stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly to get rid of them, leaning down once more to capture her lips. "I love you too."

Rory's body arched to meet his and Logan reached under her leg to prop her knee up, both of them preparing themselves for what happened next. She hugged his hips with her legs and pulled him to her so they were flush. He lathered her body with kisses and whispers of want as her fingers trailed fire down his spine.

"Take me now, Logan, or I swear to God I'll never sleep with you again," she said restlessly, her head twisting and her hands grabbing a fistful of his hair. The motion sent shocks of pleasure through him and he could no longer deny the inevitable. It had been so long. Too long since they were like this. Four weeks was torture, but now he was seeing the light. They were both being let out of captivity, embracing the open world together.

Her neck went back when he pushed into her, a gasp escaping both their lips. He took the opportunity to trace his tongue up between her breasts and along her throat. She whimpered and cried his name out as her body rubbed against the carpet. She kissed him over and over and over again, letting him know without speaking that forever was starting right now, their forever was here. That thing they'd been dreaming of for years and years was finally theirs for the taking.

And they took it. They stole it. Without guilt, without shame, they drove away the pain, the hurt, the abandonment, and embraced each other with promises and lust.

He was pinching her skin so hard he was sure scars would appear, left as a reminder for her that this night they loved each other. And she closed her eyes to him, tears of what tasted to Logan like elation. It all felt like the first time, like all the times. When he would hold her, love her, kiss her like she was his queen and he was her servant, her jester.

They loved each other that night with gentle roughness, her body fitted to his as if they were made to be like this: used and abandoned and then found.

Logan watched the girl writhe beneath him, cries for heaven spilling through her clenched teeth. He took from her and she took from him, both receiving and wanting and needing. Their breaths were ragged, mingling on the sweat they wore, and they panted the night away.

He couldn't have asked for anything else, couldn't imagine anything else. She wept for him and he lived, moved, just for her, all of it ending with tumbles and whimpers and squeezes and kisses. Muffled voices met tongues and shockwaves of glory tied with panting exhalations.

This was what it meant to be one, to take without giving back. And they took, they stole, knowing they would never, could never, replace any of it.

Her body, his body, they sang together. Forever. Because forever was their thing.

And when they finally collapsed, all shivers and quiet groans indistinct and far away, when he lay his head on her belly, pressing warm kisses to her skin, when his his eyes met hers and as he watched her body pulse with leftover want and love, he knew as clear as when he first laid eyes on her as she stood outside her room, poking her perfect nose into his business, that this was where he felt it would be okay, right even, to close his eyes and never wake up.


A/N 2: That was interesting, right? Did you cry like I did when writing it? Or did you cringe because of how poorly written it was? Feel free to tell me the truth, because I know I can't stand the sight of my own writing sometimes. I didn't try too hard to get this perfect, but I wanted it to be raw, so it's meant to be sloppy and a bit all over the place. I imagine that's how they were right then, sloppy and a bit all over the place.

Fun fact, the idea for Naxos being their honeymoon destination came from my parents. They had been dating a little while and were watching a BBC documentary on Greece when Naxos showed up and my mum commented to my dad that she'd want to go there for her honeymoon. He didn't blindfold her or anything, but she didn't know where they were until the final plane landed. How romantic, right?

So the music here is all nice and romantic. The Maine's song is fun and makes me want to dance while "Human" makes me want to ball my eyes out. "Love Love Love" is such a weird and beautiful song and should be listened to at least three times. Northern Downpour is actually my favourite Panic! song and I really think you should listen to it.

This is the end, is it not, my friends? I've had fun with this and hope you are patient for my epilogue.

Last thing before I go: I have an idea for a new Rogan story. But, unlike so many, it's not exactly happy. Logan won't even play a big part for much of the beginning. It's something I've been thinking about for literally over a year and would love to know if you guys think I should give it a go. I don't even know how many of you read these long author's notes I put out, but if you could let me now, by either PMing me or commenting on here, I would appreciate it so much. Thanks so much!

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

Disclaimer: I own nothing.