A/N: Long overdue chapter. I was almost tempted to leave things as they were, since by now we are all too sadly faaar from the holidays. Still, I felt like this story needed some sort of closure, so here we are. Thanks everyone for reading!

P.s.: This chapter contains scenes that should make me want to change this story's rating (and I'm not talking about foul language or depiction of violence, if you know what I mean). I'm too lazy for that, so be advised.

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…

'Soul meets soul on lovers' lips.' – Percy Bysshe Shelley

[Some years later…]

"Merry Christmas again, Han! Thanks for having us."

She felt the cool, late December breeze ruffle the hem of her burgundy sweater as she stood in the open door, but even the slight chill couldn't make her smile waver as she raised one hand to return the waves from the small group of people moving away from the house and into the winter night.

"Merry Christmas, guys" she called back to their lifelong friends. Her family, really. "Thank you all for coming. Drive safe!"

A few more good wishes for both her and her lover were sent her way as she watched them all get into their respective cars. Judging by the very exuberant and somewhat unsteady wave that Aria gave, it was probably a good thing that the petite novelist started dating a teetotaler.

A slight frown formed on her face: she still had to get used to a completely sober, totally clean Jason. Sure, it has been a long time since he quit drugs and started drinking water – apple cider when he felt like partying wild – instead of Johnny Walker and root beer. Still… the guy had a reputation.

Then again, good for him. And for Aria, whom lately has been happier than Hanna had ever seen her.

She stayed in the doorway until the last taillight had disappeared around the turn in the forest road, then closed the door with a smile and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear as she made her way back inside the house. As she passed through the spacious living room, her gaze fell upon the six-foot evergreen that she and Spencer had painstakingly decorated the previous evening, between silly arguments (but the brunette preferred referring to them as 'differing views') and make-out sessions that quickly escalated into something more.

She let a brief chuckle escape.

More often than not, the Christmas trees her dad used to pick when she was still a kid were artificial ones; small and bought with the decorations already added to it. Her parents already had their fair shares of 'differing views' enough as it was without adding fuel to any flames and risk setting their house on fire. It is known that people feel especially stressed out around the holidays, after all.

But Spencer had, in her usual stubborn manner, decided that if they were going to celebrate this particular holiday, then they were 'gonna do a proper job of it, goddammit'. And even though it was a decidedly troublesome tradition to take an actual pine tree into one's house for the occasion, she really hadn't wanted to refuse the taller woman.

Besides, the sight of one particular alluring brunette prowling around the tree with a scowl of concentration firmly etched on her face as she calculated all the angles for decorating it perfectly had been terribly endearing.

Nothing short of cute, really. Even if her girlfriend was clearly exhibiting a (more than usual) worrisome obsessive-compulsive behavior.

She rolled her eyes affectionately and felt her nose crinkle in a grin at the memory as she continued into the dining room and swept her gaze over the table that their little, extended family had been gathered around not that long ago, sharing a tasty dinner that everyone had contributed to, and conversation that had ranged from fond reminiscing to gentle but pointed teasing that had made several of them cry with laughter.

Now though, the table was cleared of dishes and glasses, the surface of it carefully wiped clean and the candles set upon it extinguished. And the most likely source of that was probably also the one responsible for the soft sounds emerging from the nearby kitchen.

Silently, she continued over to that doorway, and paused with one hand on the frame just to take in the sight that met her beyond it.

Spencer was facing away from her as she stood by the sink, softly humming along to the low music that sounded over the lightly sloshing water and the gentle clink of porcelain as she rinsed off the large amount of dishes and stacked them off to one side. The light from the small lamps set under the cabinets above the counter surrounded her body with a golden glow, and painted a shadowy outline around her formfitting grey jeans and navy blue cardigan, the sleeves of which had been folded halfway up her forearms.

As the dark haired woman turned her head to set aside another plate, Hanna could make out the few strands of chestnut silk that had escaped the high ponytail she had tied her hair into earlier, and she spent a few moments admiring the way their color contrasted with the pale skin, and how they served to frame those exquisite features. That delicious, elegant neck.

Beautiful.

The brunette turned again, and she idly realized that she'd said the word aloud. Not that she regretted doing so, especially not as the corners of chocolate eyes crinkled in a warm smile, even as Spencer's cheeks took on a faint shade of pink.

"Everybody made it out okay?"

"Mm-hmm." The blonde returned the smile and stepped fully into the room, picking up a small towel from the counter and offering it to her lover in exchange for a light kiss. "Leave those for now" she suggested quietly. "I'm sure they'll keep until tomorrow."

"Sure." Spencer let the water drain from the sink as she dried her hands. "I was pretty much done anyway."

"Always so efficient" she teased gently. "You'd make such a good housewife..." Which was true enough. While Hanna herself was still no five-star chef and had set about learning her way around domestic life with her usual brand of pigheaded determination and highly colorful language, and was making slow but certain progress, Spencer had long ago mastered the fine art of housekeeping. Then again, the youngest Hastings has always been a fiercely independent person, despite her upbringing. Or, maybe, precisely as a result of that.

The pale cheeks reddened again, and the blonde got a mildly amused sort of glare in response. "Lucky you, then" her lover easily retorted. "Who knows what kind of wild life you would be leading if not for my phenomenal skills."

"Really now?" Hanna arched an eyebrow challengingly.

"Yup," the brunette continued. "I got chills just thinking about it."

The half-hidden twinkle in those bottomless brown eyes lured her in with little effort and even less resistance, and Hanna's palms settled against the thick wool that covered the taller woman's waist. Beneath the material, Spencer's skin was soft and warm to the touch, and she relished the feel of it as she pulled her closer and felt familiar fingers trace gentle patterns on the back of her exposed neck as they indulged themselves in a passionate kiss.

Several long seconds of pleasant exploration later, Spencer opened her eyes to see the light flush that made Hanna's skin glow, and she was fairly certain that her own face was no better off. Honestly, the level of intoxication this woman could stir in her should be a real cause for concern.

Well, if she didn't happen to enjoy it so much.

"C'mon." The brunette took a small step back and caught the smaller woman's hand, guiding her out of the kitchen and flicking the light switch on the way as she led her back to the living room, where she sat down on the couch and stretched her long legs out along its length before patting the open space between her parted thighs.

"Sit down" she commanded softly. "I haven't been able to hold you for hours."

"Now how," Hanna wondered bemusedly, "do I refuse such a generous request?"

A single, dark eyebrow curved upwards along with one corner of Spencer's mouth. "You don't" was the dry response.

The blonde chuckled and had to acknowledge the simple truth of that as she pleasurably settled back against her lover's chest. Familiar arms wrapped around her waist in a warm, loving embrace, and she sighed in pure contentment and bliss as she pillowed her head on a very nice, sculptured collarbone and felt those few strands of loose, dark hair brush over her forehead.

"Tonight was fun" Spencer commented with a quiet murmur.

"Yeah, it was…" Hanna let her gaze rest on the tree and the colorful, intermitting lights that twinkled in the dark. "We got to do it again next year." Her lips shaped a smile. "Though we could definitely do without Em's casserole…"

"Hey, c'mon now… It wasn't that bad!"

"Are you kidding me?!" Hanna exclaimed indignantly, eyes wide and mouth agape. "I've faced down death tonight, Spence!"

The brunette could only chuckle at that. "Aw, poor baby" she cooed. Hanna only pouted in response and snuggled further into her girlfriend's arms.

"Go on, laugh at me. See if you're not going to sleep on this very same couch for the next two weeks."

Despite herself, another soft laugh escaped the taller woman, but it died soon when a delicate but strong hand pinched her leg abruptly. A low growl sounded into Hanna's ear, and apparently it was now her turn to giggle at her lover's expenses. Soon enough the growl trailed off into a soft sigh of exasperation, and one of the arms moved away from the blonde's stomach.

Briefly, the cushion dipped to one side as Spencer adjusted herself to sit up a little straighter. The arm then came back, and Hanna closed her eyes as she felt her girlfriend's fingers begin to gently play with her own in a series of featherlight caresses.

She smiled at the sensation. Strangely enough, as much as eloquent and outspoken Spencer was, the brunette had never been someone who excelled at expressing herself verbally, not when it came to her feelings. The unexpected boldness of those weird, fateful days during which their friendship transformed into something more, something they both wanted but were too afraid or in denial to admit, soon wore out, and for a long time their relationship 'suffered' a sudden stage of bashfulness.

Hanna remembered fondly all those awkward moments made of whispered confessions and trembling touches. With time, the two of them had settled into a more comfortable relationship, and the blonde had started to notice a delightful tendency towards physical affection in the other woman. Little things at the very beginning, just to be sure: a gentle touch along her arm, the trace of a fingertip over her cheek... gestures like that, all of which had at first been accompanied by furious blushing.

Spencer's many little ways of expressing her love were now accompanied by just the faintest hint of pink covering her cheeks, which was an utterly adorable and terribly sexy sight to behold.

Not that she didn't say the words, because she did, and quite often, too. Even now that Hanna was well past the stage when she needed to be constantly reassured about the brunette's feelings. But this manner was the one that Spencer was also comfortable using in front of others, and that made it all the more precious.

There were times in the past – although, if she had to be completely honest with herself, it still happened nowadays, albeit not as often as she was used to – that a totally unmotivated terror gripped her heart viciously and squeezed it uncomfortably, tightly, painfully. Times when she was convinced that their little, perfect bubble would burst at any moment and Spencer, for one reason or another, would leave her. There were the times she felt like she couldn't breathe anymore.

Stupid, ridiculous and unreasonable as it was, those thoughts still lingered somewhere deep down inside her.

Good thing that her lover seemed to have developed a sixth sense for times like these, when her heart was in turmoil, prisoner of its own fears.

Spencer's palms brushed gently over the backs of her hands, and she felt skin curl protectively over her own before tender fingertips coaxed her fingers to full extension. The cheek that rested against her temple grew a little warmer to the touch as her love slowly slid her fingers in between Hanna's own and drew them down, effectively entwining their hands.

And slipping something cool onto one of her fingers in the process.

Her heart skipped a beat for a totally different reason now – her anxieties long forgotten - and she could hear the increase in its mate's pounding under her head as she opened her eyes. The pure, shining sapphire that now rested on her hand sparkled in all its blue glory in the low light, and she felt her breath hitch.

"I had a whole speech planned out" Spencer murmured softly into her ear before she could regain her composure enough to speak. Hard as it was. "I was actually gonna ask you on your birthday, y'know... figured that would be a gift that you'd definitely like."

Mutely, Hanna nodded.

"But then I decided... well, that'd be kinda pretentious of me, wouldn't it? Basically assuming that I was the best gift I could ever give you."

"You are." Somewhere, she found what she needed to whisper those words, even if she was unable to summon the strength to look away from that ring. She was mesmerized by the beauty of the moment.

"I know." Lips pressed against her temple. "But I gave myself to you long ago."

"Spence..." Hanna turned her head and pressed her forehead against the side of her lover's neck, and felt a gentle thumb wipe away the tear that had made its way down her cheek.

"Christmas has a special meaning to us" was the low whisper against the top of her head. "So I thought doing this today would be only fitting." Spencer raised their interlaced fingers, and she felt the tender touch of lips against her skin.

"I know that I told you before that I never wished to get married. That we don't need a piece of paper to validate our love…" the dark haired woman went on quietly, and Hanna could hear the slight tremor in that husky voice that she adored so much. "But I... I guess I just wanted you to know that you're not gonna... wake up one day and not find me there."

A soft sob slipped past the blonde's lips, and she felt strong arms assist her as she turned around in her love's embrace and wrapped her arms tightly around Spencer's neck. The chest beneath her own heaved sharply as she pressed her face into a shoulder that smelled like vanilla, and jasmine, and lavender, and that subtle, expensive perfume of hers. And something that was uniquely her.

She smelled like home. Like safety, protection, passion. Like love.

"So... all that stuff about sickness and health, richer and poorer..." the brunette's voice was definitely trembling now, but she could tell she was smiling. "That's what I want to be there for. All of it." A gentle hand stroked soothingly along the length of Hanna's back. "I don't know what life's gonna throw in our faces... haven't got a damn clue... but whatever it is, I want to share it with you."

Briefly, silence reigned in the room.

"So... what do you say?" She felt a kiss against the top of her head. "Even after this crappy proposal, will you marry me?"

Hanna laughed weakly. "Do you really have to ask?"

The body she rested on shook with a short chuckle. "No... maybe I don't" Spencer admitted. "But a girl likes to hear confirmation just as much as she likes to be asked. Right?"

Hanna placed her hands against the cushions and raised herself up, meeting the loving gaze that never failed to set free just about a million butterflies in her stomach from a breath away. She let herself be enveloped in a golden warmth, bask in the tenderness of its depth.

"Yes."

"Yes?" She watched the extra sparkle of joy come forth in those eyes as she felt hands cup her cheeks ever so gently.

"Yes."

"Just check- mmph."

Sometimes, Hanna reflected as she pressed closer and felt her fiancée's soft lips melt into her own, talking really was highly overrated.

Right now all she wanted, all she needed, was to lose herself in her lover; to drown herself in the taste, scent and feel of this marvelous woman who could tear down every single one of her defenses with the shortest of glances and ground her with the simplest of touches. This woman who was the only one who could make her break into a million pieces and then pick up all the pieces and lovingly put her back together again. Not that Spencer would ever do such a thing. Hanna trusted her with her heart – literally.

There was no such thing as too much emotion with Spencer. Never too much. But there was such a thing as so much, and in this moment, on the couch in their home on Christmas Eve, there was so much emotion inside her that it felt as if her chest could burst with it. And the taste of both her own and the other's tears as they mingled with their kiss wasn't lessening the amount any.

'I love you'

Hands found skin, and the silky warmness of it seared her palms as she pressed against it. In a swift move the brunette flipped them over and felt the lips that were now situated beneath her own part in a gasp. She took advantage of that, and let her tongue delve into that warm mouth while Hanna's fingers pressed into the back of her head, pulling her closer.

The winter was not so cold anymore. The heat surrounding them was overwhelming and they found themselves horribly overdressed in such circumstances. Suddenly there were too many clothes between the skin of their writhing bodies. That damnable blouse was limiting Spencer's access entirely too much for her taste, and her hands made short work of its buttons as the sound of their labored breaths filled the silence in the room.

"Hnn..." Hanna moaned into her mouth as she loosened the clasp on the front of her bra and wasted no time in letting her hands lay claim to the supple flesh of her breasts. There was a hint of desperation in her touch, she knew. A need to possess this woman... to make her shatter so utterly under her hands... make her lose all sense of who she was and know nothing but pure, carnal pleasure.

"Spencer..." The name was a fevered prayer mumbled against warm skin as the brunette laid hot, open-mouthed kisses against the side of her lover's neck, all over her collarbone and down on her bosom. Between panting breaths she felt Hanna's hands tug firmly at the collar of her cardigan, pulling frantically at the material until her shoulders were partially exposed and the garment was loose enough for those same hands to slip under it and onto her back and cling to it with the implicit promise of never letting go.

Her lips closed around a particularly tempting patch of skin just beneath Hanna's ear, and she felt the blonde arch her body beneath her as she sucked on it harshly, reveling in the guttural moan her efforts earned her. The finest musician in history couldn't produce sounds sweeter than this... couldn't create music more beautiful than the gasps and sighs that her hands and lips - only hers - could tear from the very core of Hanna's being.

And God, she was addicted. How could she ever go a day without touching, kissing, tasting this wonderful creature?

Luckily she didn't have to. Neither one of them had to.

They belonged together.

"...ahh... Spen... cer..." Perfectly manicured nails dug into the back of strong shoulders as she pressed a firm leg against the apex of her lover's thighs. "Aah…"

Oh, Hanna could get drunk on this. She could get absolutely intoxicated from the feel of smooth, pale hands that were bringing her so much pleasure; from the display of strength in a body that at the same time was soft and flexible and so alluringly feminine that it made every inch of her itch to touch it. From the faint tang of salt that met her tongue as she traced it along the length of Spencer's elegant neck.

Too many clothes were still in her way, and she felt something inside her growl in annoyance at the obstruction as she swiftly removed Spencer's white tank top, and in exchange the brunette batted away the hands that came down and tried to aid her in removing the jeans.

"No." She pressed her forehead against the blonde's and grasped her wrists, settling the hands back on her shoulders. "Like this" she whispered huskily, and watched the brilliant blue eyes of her lover darken as her own hand trailed up her thighs, parting them, and slipped underneath Hanna's skirt and panties and slowly, agonizingly so, came in contact with neatly trimmed, amazingly soft curls.

"Just... like this."

Hanna's body squirmed helplessly beneath her, and Spencer watched in fascination her face contort in a snarling groan as she brushed her fingers firmly across the tiny bead of flesh above her opening. Watched the blonde head throw itself back against the arm of the couch as her fingers teased mercilessly her wet folds before finally, finally, entering her.

Beautiful.

This time it was Spencer to utter the words aloud, and got a sharp gasp in response as she thrust in again and felt the moist jerk of hips against her hand.

Again.

Strands of golden silky hair clung to the sides of Hanna's face and on her forehead.

Flawless.

Her skin was flushed with arousal and glistened in the light. Her plump lips were red – so red – and inviting. They parted slightly, and her brow furrowed as though in pain.

Again.

Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated so that only a thin ring of deep blue was visible.

Again.

"... aaahn..."

Perfect.

"... hah... Spen-..."

And again.

"... cer!"

Her fingers were trapped as Hanna clamped down on them, seemingly wanting to keep her love inside her forever, and hands buried themselves in her hair as she roughly pulled the brunette close. She drank up the cries as though they were water to a woman dying of thirst; swallowed every single one with her lips as the heat – God, such heat – pressed against her digits with almost painful force.

So very, very beautiful.

My angel... my eternal love...

...

…

Hours later, two extremely satisfied, completely spent, absolutely elated souls were lying down on their bed, locked in an intimate embrace, lost to the world. To everything and everyone else except themselves.

Life had never been that sweet.

Hanna nuzzled lightly her lover's neck and sighed contently. "Nine years and one day and I still don't know what I would do without you."

Spencer tightened her grip on her and placed a soft kiss on her temple. "Nine years and one day you'll never have to find out."