Here is the epilogue, as promised! Thanks to everyone for the comments and encouragement for my first full-length story in this fandom. And of course I've got to add: #LongLiveLongmire!

Note: There's some sexy stuff in this chapter. Nothing especially graphic or more adult than what I've seen so far in the books, but please do look away for the first 800 words or so if that isn't your thing.

Moving Day
Epilogue

She had watched Walt sleep before, a couple of times. On the cot in the lockup or in the driver's seat of his truck, the very picture of voluntary overwork and interrupted duty. This was completely different; in part because it was Vic's first night in a new home, but mostly because of the way he looked so completely relaxed and untroubled.

Untroubled would have been one of the last words she would have associated with Walt Longmire over the time that she'd known him, and yet? Here he was, snoozing with his tousled head on her pillow as if he didn't have a care in the world.

It was still not quite morning, but it was near enough that grayish light was beginning to creep through the filmy old-fashioned curtains that she hadn't had a chance to replace yet. Absaroka County was asleep, and the continued silence of her cellphone indicated that there had been no call-outs in the middle of the night that would have required either of their assistance. Propping her head up with one elbow angled over the pillow, she continued to study the man pressed close against her in the bed. He was breathing softly, not snoring, and his eyelashes were surprisingly lush. She resisted the urge to kiss his eyelids.

The solidity of his frame was even more evident with the absence of clothing. Vic smiled slowly, remembering how all their garments had ended up in a crumpled heap on her bedroom floor much, much earlier in the evening. Walt's frame, plus all his limbs and other… appendages, had certainly been put to good use in the hours since— the tips of her toes were still tingling from the after effects. Vic's investigative instincts had been right on track concerning several topics, including Walt's hidden talents and his sustained energy levels.

They had eventually peeled themselves out of bed long enough to indulge in some cold pizza, he in nothing but his jeans and she in his discarded t-shirt. The salad had sadly wilted and become unappetizingly slimy, so they'd thrown it in the trash. It was too inconvenient in any case, since it would have been awkward for them to eat on the sofa with her bare legs draped across his denim-clad lap. She'd made a mental note to read up on easily shareable finger foods, just for future reference. Once the pizza had been dealt with, needless to say the living room couch became the second piece of furniture to be tested to its limits that night.

Maybe it was a policeman's instinct that caused Walt to awaken under her watchful gaze, or it could have been that Vic had willed his eyes to open so that she could observe the sleep-darkened navy of his irises. Either way, she had the result.

Walt groused. "You know, three out of every one-hundred domestic disputes are catalyzed by one partner disturbing the sleep of the other?"

"It doesn't bode well for you to start telling bold-faced lies this early in our relationship. That causes the other ninety-seven."

He responded with a quiet laugh, and proceeded to slide a warm hand up to the back of her neck and drag her face to his for a slow kiss. The contact made Vic feel floaty and light-headed, and she pressed closer with one arm resting between his opposite side and his free arm. She was practically laying on top of him, which could swiftly become pleasant on a whole different level.

Some of her hair fell into their faces and Walt paused to brush it away. "What were you thinking about, anyway? Too early to be awake"

Shimmying into an even more enticing position, chest-to-chest with one leg on either side of his body, she briefly considered the answer. "I was just reminiscing over all the housewarming presents you've given me so far tonight."

"So far…?"

Seeking evidence with a targeted roll of her hips, Vic ascertained that her hunch was correct. "Hmm. Seems you've got a gift that keeps on giving. Much nicer than a fruit basket."

They slid together like water, smooth and easy. Walt's hands guided her hips as she took him in, and she braced her palms on his chest. He arched beneath her, head falling further back into the pillows and exposing his neck and the strong line of his jaw. Vic couldn't stop herself from leaning down to tease his throat with teeth and tongue, moaning against the skin there as the new angle allowed him to drive deeper.

She kissed his lips briefly before returning to a more upright position and rocking against him in a tight rhythm. It was a seductive push and pull, up and down, his fingers gripping with delicious pressure at her hipbone. One of his hands traveled up the plane of her stomach to her breasts, molding the curves of each in turn and rubbing his work-roughened palm over already sensitized nipples. His touch sent bolts of electricity straight to her core, causing the pace to quicken.

"Oh God—"

A purring groan erupted from Walt's throat as Vic slid her hands forward to his shoulders to better leverage her weight. He was bucking up against her now in counterpoint to her movements, doubling the rapid tension and sending them both past the point of no return. They clung to each other, breathless endearments tumbling out amidst their shared release, hands grasping and stroking as their twining bodies slowed and eventually stilled in a heap of pleasantly tangled limbs.

Vic's face was buried in the crook of Walt's neck, and she caressed the skin behind his ear with the bridge of her nose. "Remind me to send the realtor a thank you card, because I think I'm gonna like this place. Don't you?"

He stared dazedly at the ceiling and smiled, both arms wrapped tightly around her. "Yep."

x

Henry was the first to know. He often was, and people were inclined to think he had some sort of mystical sixth sense when in fact he was simply observant.

Walt and Vic had not even bothered to do him the simple courtesy of making him work for the information— he had silently observed the pair one afternoon at the Red Pony when they thought they were sitting alone eating their lunch at the bar, only to notice Vic's booted foot hooked around the side of Walt's calf. The foot stroked up and down slowly, suggestively, and Henry was well enough acquainted with the back of Walt Longmire's head to know— yes, even without seeing as much in the mirror behind the bar— that there was a smile on the sheriff's face.

He found himself smiling as well, ducking out the side door and re-entering from the direction of his office in order that his friends could maintain the secrecy of their new relationship, at least for now.

x

Ruby, Branch, and Ferg were next to cotton on, putting two and two together on a maddeningly slow afternoon at the station a few weeks later. Branch had gone for the Wednesday taco special at the Busy Bee, casually observing Walt and Vic as they left the office and headed down the other side of the sidewalk at a brisk pace on foot. Upon his return, he stopped by Ruby's desk.

"Where were those two headed in such a hurry?"

The older woman frowned. "What hurry? They said they were off to follow up on a chicken theft out at Ralphie Jones' farm."

A slow smirk formed on Branch's face. "That's funny, since they were travelin' on foot in the opposite direction of both their vehicles. Right toward Vic's apartment, actually."

Ferg piped up. "Ralphie Jones doesn't even have chickens on his farm."

"They said they would be out for the rest of the afternoon…" Ruby's eyebrows lifted in understanding, and she and Branch shared a look.

There was a long silence before a still confused Ferg offered, "Do you want me to go see what they're—"

"NO," said Ruby and Branch.

Ferg crossed his arms. "I don't get it."

"I'll tell you later," Branch promised. "It's… not appropriate to talk about while we're on duty."

Ferg chewed on that for a moment, eyes widening. "Oh my GOD, you mean—"

"Shhh!"

Ruby gave both of the young men a warning glare, and the three avoided eye contact as Branch handed out the tacos. Apparently everyone would be having a spicier Wednesday than usual this week…

x

Cady walked in on them. It was bound to happen to someone, sooner or later, and clearly she had drawn the short straw.

She'd returned from Denver late on Friday night, bypassing any social calls and heading straight to bed. The following morning, she decided to grab some extra-fluffy croissants from a local pastry shop and bring them over to her father's cabin so they could have breakfast and talk about the progress she'd made with a few lingering aspects of her mother's murder case.

Upon arrival, the door was unlocked as usual. Cady entered, and detected the aroma of coffee and possibly some variety of cooked food item wafting from the kitchen. She saw no need to call out, figuring she'd find her father there, preparing some breakfast or having his coffee. What she actually found instead nearly blew her eyeballs out the back of her skull.

Her father was, in fact, in the kitchen. He was in his usual jeans, with bare feet and an untucked faded chambray shirt. The shocking part was that he was not alone, and most certainly not unoccupied. Deputy Victoria Moretti was with him, hair loose from its usual up-do, wearing nothing but a multi-colored floral bra and what Cady recognized as some of her dad's old USC sweatpants.

The sweats were slung low on Vic's hips, not that Cady could see much more than a sliver of skin since her father had Vic pressed up against the refrigerator with his tongue shoved down her throat. Vic seemed to be giving as good as she got, one hand fisted in the back of Walt's shirt and the other gripped to the side of his neck to pull him closer. Their mouths molded and devoured, and Cady's eyes widened as Vic sucked provocatively at her father's lower lip.

She cleared her throat loudly, suppressing a snort of laughter as the busted duo sprung apart.

"Your eggs are burning."

Never before had Vic looked more like a deer in the headlights. Her eyes darted to and fro, finally landing on the smoking pan on the range top. "Son of a—" Lunging forward, the blonde deputy pulled the skillet away from the heat, prodding the defeated eggs with an unsteady spatula.

"Hi, Dad." Cady raised an inquisitive eyebrow, swinging the bag of croissants in front of her. "Brought you something to nibble on but I see you've already got that covered."

Walt looked so embarrassed, Cady almost felt bad for a moment. She watched him turn red, trying to align and fasten the several undone snaps on the front of his shirt. "H— Hey, Punk. Didn't know you were back from Denver."

"Got home last night. I've got a lot to tell you…" She looked back and forth between sheriff and deputy, both of whom looked very disheveled and equally as mortified. "…but it can wait. I'll leave the croissants, since your omelette appears to be a categorical failure."

Vic was scraping the remnants of decimated egg into the trash can, blushing furiously. Her father rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture Cady recognized even from the long ago days of her childhood.

"Thanks. I'll, uhhh… call you later?"

"Sure." She paused, taking a moment to digest the meaning and magnitude of the situation she was witnessing. She didn't want them to think she disapproved— she most definitely didn't. It was a surprise in some ways, but made total sense in others. In all honesty Cady had started to wonder about the two of them, especially after that day at the Red Pony when she'd watched Vic tend her father's wounds. But how could she let them know it was okay without actually saying it? How could she show that she knew how important this was?

She made slow and deliberate eye contact with her father. "So… I guess this means I don't have to worry about you taking care of yourself as much any more?"

His lips twitched into the briefest of grins. "Umm… nope?"

Looking between her father and his— she hunted for the right word— girlfriend? Lover? It was hard to classify, so Cady stopped trying. She just looked between them one last time, nodded, and turned to leave. Neither of them could have seen the smile break out on her face as she hopped off the still-unfinished porch, but Cady was okay with that, too. After all, it would be fun to make the two of them squirm, at least for a little while.

x

Approximately One Year Later

"Where are we?"

Vic already felt nervous, riding behind Walt with her arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. Horses simply weren't her thing— she wasn't scared shitless of them the way she was with snakes, but their temperaments just didn't seem to suit. In this she seemed to be the polar opposite of the man she loved, who always had even the wildest of steeds eating straight from his hand.

She wondered, in a way, if that wasn't an appropriate analogy for their relationship. Vic was willing to admit that Walt Longmire had her well and truly tamed, and never for a single second had she regretted it.

For a long moment he was quiet, gently stroking one of her hands where it rested against his ribcage. The meadow around them was ripe with the grasses and wildflowers of late spring, threatening to break into summer with the heat from the sun in a cloudless sky.

"This is Martha's place."

"Oh…" She wanted to say more, but she couldn't see his face. He managed to save her from the awkwardness by smoothly dismounting and offering a hand to help her down. He knew she sucked at getting off the horse even more than getting on, so one hand turned into two steady arms, which didn't bother Vic at all.

Walt left one arm around her, slowly casting his gaze over the green expanse. "I wanted to bring you here before this, but," his eyebrows knit thoughtfully. "It never seemed like the right time. Today did, though. It was a year ago. The day I… well, you know."

"Wow. I mean… Walt. I—"

"You don't have to say anything. It might sound stupid and selfish, but it's for me more than you. That okay?"

Her eyes welled and her love for him grew even deeper, if that were possible. She squeezed his arm. "It's okay. More than okay."

Vic reached up to touch his face and guide his eyes to hers. "I'm glad you still love her, Walt. I mean, shit. I feel like…" She trailed off, smiling through her tears.

A familiar thumb dragged across her cheek to wipe the tears away. His voice was low, slightly throaty. "Like what?"

"Like you'll always love me, too."

Walt's expression lightened, displaying the serene quirk of a grin that Vic was lucky enough to see on the rarest of occasions when he knew beyond a doubt that she truly understood him. He dipped his head, shielding them both with the brim of his hat as their lips brushed.

"I will."

xxxxx
FIN
xxxxx

*Throws up arms* DONE! Whew, my first real, completed multi-chapter Longmire fic. I really hope you all liked it. I can see that this pairing is going to be A Problem for me… which is honestly a wonderful feeling.

Reviews are certainly most appreciated— let me know how I did with this abundantly fluffy epilogue! Wine and nibbles (of the non-deputy kind) in exchange for comments and opinions! ;D