Work Text:
Maybe it is the heady rush that came to Gilbert when Anne first kissed him and hasn’t left, or maybe the grass has always been this way, but as he lays beside Anne Gilbert thinks that the field below him feels more comfortable than any bed ever has. Elbow touching arm, ankles intertwined, Gilbert feels like this is where he’s supposed to be – like a puzzle piece, he’s found his place. Nothing could make him move now, not even the wrath of God. His very body feels rooted in place, like the ground below him has grown upwards and enveloped him – based on the way Anne’s also sunk into the grass, Gilbert thinks she probably feels the same.
Beside him Anne’s looking up at the sky, a dreamy expression on her face, but Gilbert’s looking at her. He takes in the slope of her nose and the freckles on her cheeks; he even admires the messy hairs sticking up off her forehead as they glow in the sunlight. She’s quite a sight – she looks like she belongs here on this cliff amongst the wild beauty. Gilbert feels blessed that he’s able to be here beside her just existing, let alone to have been the one to redden her lips and mess her hair.
A slow smile creeps across his face, and his heart hurts – he shouldn’t be able to love someone this much.
Anne must feel the weight of his eyes upon her form because suddenly she’s facing him, body still turned towards the sky but startlingly blue eyes meeting his. She sees the way he’s staring and takes him in accordingly, eyes darting over ever centimetre of his face, resting particularly long on his lips, reddened as they are like her own. Gilbert can only hope that she finds something inspiring in his meager shape, as he as in her magnificence.
“…Hello.” She suddenly murmurs, softer than Gilbert has ever heard her be.
“Hi.” He replies, barely more than a breath. The warm air between them feels heavy but soft at the same time – like a blanket, secreting them away from the rest of the world. Gilbert doesn’t want to disturb it.
“Your lips are red.” Anne says, eyes glimmering. Gilbert grins back at her, like the two of them are in on a secret.
“As are yours.” Gilbert’s hands itch to touch her lips, but his entire body feels heavy, and he doesn’t want to move. Anne giggles at his response, and Gilbert commits the sound to memory – never has he heard something more beautiful.
Once more they lapse into silence, this time looking into each other’s eyes. Maybe it should feel awkward, but Gilbert’s never felt more at home. Without breaking eye contact he listens for the sound of her breathing below the crashing of distant waves and whistling wind – the sounds work strangely together, creating a unique orchestra of Anne and the ocean. Again, Anne is the one to break the silence.
“Is this right for us to do?” She asks, and though the question hurts Gilbert like a knife to the heart, he doesn’t look away.
“…Does it feel wrong?” He replies after deep thought. Anne is ever an enigma, and Gilbert doesn’t know what answer she wants to hear; he just knows that, right now, laying across from this girl, he doesn’t care if it’s right or if it’s wrong. The minutes it takes for her to answer feel like an eternity.
“No. It feels right.” Anne says simply after pondering his question. She closes her eyes (Gilbert watches her light eyelashes flutter against her even lighter cheeks) and smiles softly. “It feels effervescent, like I’m full of light and it’s about to lift me off the ground and into the sky.” Those bright blue eyes are back on him. “That’s why I was looking up earlier – I was trying to decide if the heavens could be better than this bed of grass we’ve made.” She smiles, and Gilbert’s heart hurts again as he smiles back – he should probably get used to it. “I don’t think it quite compares.”
“I’m glad.” He replies softly, overcome with the urge to rush forward and press his lips to hers, although he doesn’t follow through, because just looking at the way she’s smiling right now is enough. “I personally like the view down here better.” Anne blushes botchily and suddenly Gilbert wishes he was an artist like Cole, so he might capture the beautiful pink in her face.
“…What do we do now?” Anne asks quietly, and he both loves and hates that she’s so rational about this – Gilbert himself still feels like he’ll never think straight again, and here Anne is seriously considering their future.
“What do you want to do?” He asks in reply, heart sinking as he anticipates Anne’s answer. Never touching her again would hurt like losing a limb now that Gilbert knows what she tastes like, but Gilbert will do it with a smile if that’s what she requires. If Anne asked, Gilbert would jump off the cliff sitting meters from them – he would do it this minute, if that’s what she required.
“…I think I would like to lie here a while.” Anne says after an agonizing moment of silence. “Longer than a while, if we were allowed. With just you and the ocean as my companions, the grass as a bed. Maybe the flowers would grow over us, and it would be just like we were sleeping; preserved, like in the most romantic of stories.”
She swallows visibly, looking nervous, and Gilbert realizes that this is the most honest Anne has ever been – what he’s seeing now is really, truly Anne; these words are her true, unfiltered thoughts. And he decides that the least he can do is return the favour.
Moving slowly, so as to give her ample time to move away, Gilbert reaches out and brings Anne closer to himself, until the back of her head is resting on his shoulder (allowing her to continue looking at the sky). One of his arms is lying underneath her, and the other rests on his chest. With every breath their chests press against each other – it’s more intimate than Gilbert ever could have imagined being with her in a thousand years.
For a moment it’s almost awkward, but then Anne lets herself lean fully into him and brings one of her hands up to cover the one that lies on his chest. Gilbert tangles their fingers together and resists the urge to bury his nose in her hair. Except, he can do that now, right? So, Gilbert leans into Anne and breathes her in – she smells like bread and pine and something that is uniquely Anne. Belatedly he remembers that he had something to say.
“I think I would like that too.” He murmurs into her hair. Even though he can’t see her, Gilbert is sure Anne is smiling. Closing his eyes, Gilbert listens to the heartbeat of the girl he loves and allows himself to get lost in it.
They lay like that until the sky grows dark and they hear the distant howling of coyotes. They’ve most certainly been gone too long, and the Cuthbert’s will be surely be worried sick, but Gilbert doesn’t care.
Limbs creak and muscles twinge as they both slowly get up from the ground – the grass has become concave where they were laying, and Gilbert smiles at the imprint. Hopefully it will be there tomorrow, too, a reminder that this is real, that Gilbert hasn’t just been caught in a dream since he woke up this morning.
“I don’t want to leave.” Anne says from where she’s moved to stand on the edge of the cliff, her voice carried on a cool breeze. Gilbert moves up to stand beside her. The ocean makes a deadly but beautiful sight – the water is as dark as the sky, the violent crashing of waves on rocks the only noise in the night air.
“Visit me tomorrow.” Gilbert says on impulse, already regretting his brashness as Anne turns to look at him, blue eyes sparkling inquisitively. “Bash won’t say anything, neither will Delphi.” He swallows hard as the look in her eye turns mischievous.
“Why, Gilbert Blythe, that’s mighty improper, inviting me to your house unchaperoned! What would Mrs. Lynde say?” The grin on her face grows wicked as Gilbert blushes, and he loves the way it looks on her.
“I think we’ve already conducted ourselves improperly, Carrots. And I can’t say I’ve been thinking of Mrs. Lynde much today.” Gilbert replies, grinning. He can’t help but lift a hand to cup her face, thumb gently tracing her lips. The swelling has long since faded, and Gilbert finds himself disappointed. Anne frowns and swats at his chest at the nickname, but the blush on her face and the way she is careful not to dislodge his hand tells Gilbert that she doesn’t truly mind. Instead, she brings her hand to cup Gilbert’s, which then stills on her face. They stay like that for a moment, both grinning like idiots, before the sudden call of a nearby owl startles them into movement.
“Oh, I have to be home, Matthew and Marilla must be worried sick!” Anne squeaks, pulling away from Gilbert and ending the moment. “I should’ve never stayed out so late!” Gilbert’s heart sinks – does she already regret this?
Anne takes one step away from Gilbert before she pauses, emotions warring on her face. Then she’s darting forward and brushing a sweet kiss to his lips – much softer and shyer than earlier in the afternoon. Before Gilbert can react she’s gone, sprinting off in the direction of Green Gables. The heady rush from earlier is back, and at such a gentle kiss, too. The silly grin that comes over his face isn’t one he can stop, but at least Anne isn’t around to see it. Reaching up, Gilbert presses the back of his hand over his lips – he still can’t believe that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert wants to kiss him, plain old Gilbert Blythe. He’s so caught up that he almost misses what Anne says.
“Oh – YES!” She suddenly yells from somewhere over the hill. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, Gilbert Blythe!” Gilbert laughs giddily.
“Sweet dreams, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert!” He calls back, hoping she can hear him. All the way home Gilbert replays the day in his head, committing it to memory. Bash is already asleep when he arrives home, so Gilbert tries to be as quiet as a mouse when he heads to his room. It’s probably for the best – if he starts gushing about Anne now, he’s not sure when he’d stop.
Sleep comes quickly that night, and Gilbert sleeps more peacefully than he has in a long time.