Title: The Clock Strikes Twelve
Summary: When he kisses her, she can't breathe and that's that; she doesn't care about how terribly cliché it sounds, it's the truth.
Character(s): Hope C., Arthur T.
Genre: Angst/General ::AU-ish::
Rating: K+
Fandom:39 Clues

#41 ::Wait::

He took a deep breath, muttering, "I can't put it off any longer," and at her questioning glance, looks her straight it the eye and says fiercely, "the truth is, Hope, I'm a Vesper who is hopelessly in love with you and will you please, please marry me?"

#42 ::Talk::

"Yeah, and oil is one of the clues, completely, and you can use it for cooking and loads of other things too like cooking, oh, wait, I already said that, and energy, yeah, energy and making your cars move and if you strike a match and throw it into gasoline it explodes and goes boom and did you know you could adopt a penguin at the zoo- what? Of course I'm not distracting you, I like carrying out conversations with Vespers!"

#43 ::Search::

She slumps down, her shoulders sagging as she mutters, "it's useless, Arthur, the ring's gone, the Vesper's have taken it and there's nothing we can do about it."

#44 ::Hope::

He takes her chin and tilts it up a little, forcing her to look at him and murmurs softly, "it's fine, Hope; as long as you're here, there's always a chance that it'll get better," and he kisses her.

#45 ::Eclipse::

They look up at the stars, at the glowing red moon, glad to have ditched sleep to watch this spectacular solstice eclipse.

#46 ::Gravity::

"I wish I could fly," she sighs wistfully as she looks up at the heavens but shrieks when he pokes her side, tickling her sensitive spots and realizes if gravity were their enemy, they would not be chained to this world together.

#47 ::Highway::

He rolls his eyes, "Hope, chill, it's just the highway, it's not like Vespers are waiting to strike at any moment-" he cuts himself off, realizing that this could very well be the case.

#48 ::Unknown::

They stare at the cave's entrance, from which an ominous feeling seems to have steamed out; it's always the unknown, always, whatever they did and it forever would be.

#49 ::Lock::

"ARTHUR JOSIAH TRENT!" she roars when she sees his hand halfway in the cookie jar, "and you wonder why I keep my candy under lock and key!"

#50 ::Breathe::

When he kisses her, she can't breathe and that's that; she doesn't care about how terribly cliché it sounds, it's the truth.

`~`Fin`~`

A/N: And that's it. Thanks for reading! :)