Work Text:
The sun was setting over Wartwood. Most frogs were comfortably nestled in their houses, either before the burning fireplace with a good book or snug as a bug in their beds.
The humans, however, found themselves outside. On a lone hill that crested above the forest they sat, leaning against a sturdy tree.
All across the bark were carvings of initials, most commonly found within a heart. The wartwoodians called it the “sweetheart tree.” Because it stood high and beautiful among all the gnarled and ruined trees, it was that first love, shining bright.
Of course neither of the humans knew of this, and they simply sat against a tree they assumed had no purpose beyond being pretty.
Marcy lay on the ground a puzzle she’d been solving strewn on the ground beside her. Anne had grabbed a book from the archives, as recently she’d gotten quite into crocheting and had figured she may as well learn.
Realistically they both should have been going to sleep. Neither knew the time, their bodies were aching and sore from the second temple, and Anne was sure if she spent another second around Marcy she was going to combust.
But neither moved. Right now they were safe in the little bubble they’d made. Sure at some point it would pop but right now? Right now they couldn’t have felt safer. At least, while it was just the two of them they couldn’t have felt safer.
Finally, when the sun was gone and the horizon was no longer dusted with pinks and oranges, Marcy opened her eyes and looked at Anne.
She’d always thought her friend was beautiful, but something about their months in Amphibia had hardened Anne’s beauty. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made Marcy feel all warm and fuzzy inside when she looked at Anne.
Leaves were tangled into her curls, and no matter how much time Marcy would spend plucking them out somehow within an hour Anne would have a fresh batch in her hair. Scars curved on her face and hands and arms and legs, soft and sharp and oh so beautiful.
Marcy tried not the think about the fact that some were probably from Sasha, or that all of them were definitely as a result of her decision.
Her heart stabbed with guilt each time she thought of it. That it was her fault Sasha and Anne fought, her fault Anne had all those scars, her fault Sasha was part of a rebellion.
But every time she thought of it she’d smooth it over with thoughts of the Plantars, of how much fun Anne and Marcy were having. Of how much closer they’d become.
Her hands brushed Anne’s, and before she could pull back Anne intertwined their fingers and turned to look at her. She’d set down her book beside her, pages bent so she’d know where she was.
She was smiling, eyes bright with love and affection and oh god Marcy wasn’t fully breathing. The night sky twinkled in her girl’s eyes, the blood red moon shining down on them.
“Whatcha looking at dork?” Anne murmured affectionately, eyes flicking over Marcy’s face.
There was that smile again. The smile that left Marcy breathless and wanting so much more. She wanted to reach up and kiss Anne, pull her down and press kisses to her cheeks and her forehead and her lips.
She reached up, cupped her friends cheeks briefly before rolling over and sighing. She closed her eyes, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. “Just, thinking.”
She could feel Anne turn over, laying with her face to the sky and-
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Marcy spun, sitting up so abruptly she banged her head against the tree. Anne had paled, her eyes firmly looking anywhere but Marcy. It was clear she hadn’t meant to say that, that it had been a spur of the moment decision.
“What?” Marcy breathed, eyes wide as she reached over to pull Anne up. She was still refusing to look at Marcy, but with a soft tap of her finger and a gentle look Anne conceded.
“I’m think in love with you, Mar-Mar, I think I have been for a while. I guess being in Amphibia made me realize it, that I’m hopelessly and utterly smitten with your cute face. And you don’t need to say anything, you don’t need to do anything because I know you don’t feel the same but I just need to say it.”
Anne thinks I’m cute?
Marcy wasn’t sure she was breathing, wasn’t sure she was thinking about anything as she leaned forward and kissed Anne.
Her lips were soft and warm, chapped from all her time on a farm but still so perfect. She was so perfect.
Marcy pulled back, hands cupping Anne’s cheeks. “Anne, fuck Anne I love you so much,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why would you ever think I didn’t?”
Anne laughed, and Marcy’s heart broke at the hollow sad sound. “Because I’m just, me.”
She pressed another kiss to the hollow of her neck, another to the tip of her nose. “And that’s exactly why I love you, because you’re you.”
Tears, wet and salty, dripped down Anne’s cheeks, and Marcy pulled back to wipe them. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to.
And when they walked away from the tree, hand and hand, there was a new heart carved into the tree. One with the initials M & A, one that held a little bit of space at the bottom, enough space that if they wanted they could carve in an S.