A/N: I'm so proud of myself, I actually wrote something! I hope this is the start of me getting our of my writing rut, and writing a lot over the summer. So, here's hoping and stuff. At this point, I'm not even going to maintain the pretense of doing slash merely as an exercise in writing, or that most of my stuff is actually het. I just prefer writing slash. It comes easier to me. (Ha ha, get it? ...Yes, it's too late for me. I apologize for that.) But, anyway, I just sat down and wrote this pretty much in one sitting. So, happy. Not too edited, so constructive crit. is, as always, appreciated. I realize that the beginning (actually, most of the story) is pretty cliché, but hey, once in a while I wanna write fluff. And I hope that it's at least well-written cliché. Ah, yes, I think I'll stop rambling and let you read. I leave you with: review, please! You don't have to be insightful or tactful or anything, or even spell right. It only takes a second. If you read without reviewing, I shall hunt you down... mwaha. But, anyway, here it is. Taking title suggestions. And credit due to the awesome Molly, who happens to be a red-haired lesbian with a girlfriend named Dani who isn't totally creeped out that I'm stealing her name.

She Loves Me?

A cool breeze stirred my hair. I could smell the night and the plants and the damp earth, hear the crunch of branches and stones under our feet. And I could feel the warmth of her body next to me. Funny what being blindfolded does to your other senses.

“We’re here,” she said quietly, pulling me to a stop. Her hand went from my arm to the blindfold about my eyes and worked at the knot. A moment later, the bit of cloth fell away, and I could see again.

“Wow,” I breathed.

A full moon blazed silver against a deep navy sky, dotted with stars. Stars! There were never stars in the city, never more than one at a time, never like this, filling the whole of the sky, each their separate ball of white-hot fire the size of your entire planet, making you realize how small you really are. And below that vast canopy of dark filled with pinpricks of light… All sorts of trees and plants are growing all around us, so obviously lush and green that it was apparent even in the near-darkness. You could smell the nature. But the most breathtaking thing about the whole view was right in front of us. From the rock we stood on, there was a great drop, and at the bottom, an obsidian lake, hardly stirred by the wind, only colored by a silver blur that was the reflection of the moon.

“Wow,” I repeated, looking around me again, afraid to have missed something, trying to fix everything in my mind, because God only knew when I’d be somewhere this spectacular again. “Where… How do you know about this place?”

“It’s my sanctuary,” she said, smiling. “Every now and then, when life’s shit, I take the train out here and spend the night. Or,” she amended, looking pointedly at me, “when life is very not-shit.” She flashed me one of those coy smiles, and my stomach fluttered. “Sit down,” she said, tugging on my arm. I obliged. She sat behind me, legs spread, and pulled me backwards; I settled myself on her body, savoring the warmth, the closeness, marveling at how someone this beautiful, this perfect, was mine.

“This is amazing,” I said softly, relaxing into her, staring spellbound at the moon. “It’s just so…”

“Natural,” she filled in. “Pure. I know. I love it here.” Absently, she began to stroke my hair. Her touch sent a delightful shiver down my spine.

“The water’s all silver,” I commented, and suddenly felt like an idiot for it.

But all she said was, “Worth the trip, isn’t it?” I could tell from her voice that she was smiling.

“Molly?” I said after a moment.

“Yeah?” she murmured, still running her fingers through my hair.

“I’ve wanted to ask you something… When did you know?”

“Know what?” she asked playfully. “That I had fallen this far?”

Someone had actually fallen for me? Fallen far for me? She had fallen for me? Her tone was light, but it sounded like she meant every word. My stomach fluttered. “No,” I said, the beginnings of a giddy smile forming on my face. “That you were queer.”

She groaned, and I knew she was making a face. She hated that word. “Gay,” I quickly amended. “Or bi, or whatever. Honestly, Mol, It’s just so much easier to say ‘queer,’ because then you don’t have to worry about the specific label.”

“Un-straight,” she said stubbornly. “You know I hate that word.” Even though her voice was annoyed, she let her arm drape over my body, setting my tingling where it touched my chest.

“Fine,” I said. “When did you know you were an un-straight?”

“You really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“When I realized I was in love with you?”

She was in love with me? It took my brain impossibly long to process that single sentence. I was suddenly aware of her breathing, the rise and fall of her chest under mine. I felt big and clumsy and imposing and stupid and crude and tactless, like everything possible was wrong with me. How could someone like her love me?

“Dani…”

“Mmm?” I made a noise to tell her I was listening.

“Are you okay?”

“I…” I was about to lie, to tell her I was. I should have been okay, more than okay, here in this beautiful place, with her… But I wasn’t. “I don’t know,” I told her, truthfully. One cool hand touched my temple and traced the curve of my face, coming to rest lightly just below my neck. My breath caught in my throat at her touch. “I just…” I forced myself to speak, to not seem like a total moron. “I shouldn’t be here. You’re too good for me.”

Silence. A cricket chirped somewhere. A firefly, giving off a soft green glow, flew past my eyes. She said nothing. “Molly?” I asked tentatively, and half-turned to face her.

Her perfect features were framed by flaming red ringlets of hair, gilded silver by the moonlight. Her clear blue eyes, so full of intelligence and life, stared into mine, and I knew that they could see right through to my soul.

Our faces were inches away. I could feel her breath stirring my bangs. She put her hand on my back and slid it upwards, until it was at the back of my head. She pulled me closer.

And then, she was kissing me. The crickets, the moon, the lake—none of it was there anymore. It all fell away, until all that existed was me and her. Her lips were soft, warm, and her tongue traced a line of fire along the inside of my slightly open mouth. I slid my tongue forward to touch hers—one of her hands had wrapped around my back, and I ran my fingers through her silky hair—and shivered with pleasure. When I had kissed boys, tongues had been slimy, hands had been rough and unwanted. But not with her. Never with her. With her, everything was perfect, somehow gentle and electrifying at the same time.

I pulled away slowly, regretfully, my lips and mind still buzzing, and looked her in the eye again. Slid my hands from her hair. Reminded myself to breathe.

“Never say that,” she said, meeting my eyes without any reservations. “There’s no way in Hell that I’m too good for you. You’re amazing. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful.” I was beautiful? “I love you.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I let out a long, shuddering breath. Emotion surged through me; I had never felt so accepted, so complete, so whole in my entire life.

How could she always know the exact right thing to say? She could melt me with three words.

“But why—” I began. She gently put a finger to my lips. “Shh,” she told me softly. “Just accept it,” she said, eyes sparkling with a silent smile. “Daniella Hope Frazier, I love you. I am in love with you. You are my everything.”

“I…” I was about to protest, but looked into her eyes again.

She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Thank you,” I said finally, somehow managing to form words through the emotion lodged in my throat. “I…” I took a deep breath. “Molly Jennifer Richmond, I love you, more than anything. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

She smiled. Her eyes were shining. “Thank you,” she mouthed, apparently unable to speak.

I held her eyes for a moment longer. Then, I turned back to the lake and the moon and the stars, leaning back against her again. She wrapped her arms possessively around my torso and planted a soft kiss on my head, leaving a slight tingling on my scalp. I felt a cool breeze against my skin and saw a slight ripple in the black glass that was the lake below us.

I was hers, she was mine.

This was how it was supposed to be.

With a contented sigh, I snuggled into her arms and stared up at the moon.