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Annabelle was content. They both were. After all, the day after the storm is always bound to be the brightest, isn't it. And that's exactly what it was. Bright.
Laying in the midst of the sprawling fields of the Parker's farm, any thought of the chaos the previous day had brought simply melted away. Birds chirped, the butterflies drifted overhead, and the whole of time seemed to create an impenetrable bubble around the pair where no one would reach them for the rest of their lives. Henry was no more, could never bother them again. She was safe; Butch was safe, and that was all that mattered. Maybe it was that, the thought of losing them forever, that solidified the feeling deep within Annabelle's mind. She loved Butch. There was no hiding from it now, no banks big enough to be robbed that would amount to the strength of the care she held for her best friend in the whole world.
In the days before Butch was held hostage, something had shifted. A ripple in the sea of love that was just big enough to pique the interest of the two girls lying in wait beneath the surface. They had been best friends for years, that was certain. What wasn't certain was the something more, the longing to follow the other to the ends of the earth, the desire to spend every waking hour night and day as a collective rather than alone. Dreams of gentle touches opportunities to tell the other how much the time spent together truly meant. Of course neither of the pair would dare speak their truth, it would be unheard of. How could a woman dream of loving another? And if it were true, would the feeling be reciprocated? Even in the tranquility of the new day, after bold confessions and even bolder kisses, the thought lingered; If the love she felt was really so wrong, could she and Butch really make it? Was it love at all?
Luckily, the soft warmth of touch brought Annabelle out of her brooding before it could become anything more than what it was, a mere lingering thought. Butch's gentle fingers had found their way up the sleeve of her blouse and were rubbing soothing circles into the skin of her upper arm. The touch was new but certainly welcome. As was the weight of the leg tangled across her own, alongside the grounding squeeze of hands clasped around each other. In reality, most touches between the pair were new. The events of the day prior had paved the way for this deeper level of exploration. Annabelle and Butch were no longer best friends stumbling into adulthood, cautiously edging their way around the feelings they held for each other, this was surer, stronger, more certain. Certain as the natural way Annabelle's hand wove into Butch's cropped, chestnut hair, or the grounding weight of Butch's head as it found its righteous resting place on Annabelle's shoulder.
"What is going on in that lovely mind of yours, eh Butch?" A simple question to ease them back into the art of conversation. Although, if Annabelle was being honest, she found talking to Butch one of the easiest things to do in the world. It was easier than robbing banks that's for sure.
"Oh, well I err - well I was just thinking how awful nice this all is." They buried their head deeper into the crook of Annabelle's as if to shy away from the confession, or maybe to disguise the bright shade of crimson that found itself growing across their tanned skin. "Why when I think of you I just get this warm, fuzzy feeling, as if it's only you and I that exist. You're just so awful purty and I - I love you Annabelle, that's all. You know - "
At that, Annabelle swept in one fluid motion to position herself over Butch. One hand still carding through the strands of hair at the base of their neck, and the other coming to rest on the grass just next to their head, still intertwined with the spindley fingers that fit like pieces of a jigsaw between her own. Butch was now flat on their back with their partner straddling their hips, Annabelle's flowing skirt pooling around both of their hips and long ringlets of golden hair framed the other's face. The hand that was in Butch's hair snaked to rest on a cheek, a thumb swiping over the well-formed bone of their face. What a beautiful face it was.
"Well, hi there" Butch gasped, any previous train of thought cut off by the sudden movement. All they could do was stare up at the display of sheer beauty atop of them, brown eyes meeting blue before darting downwards towards satin lips.
The pair seemed to linger in that perfect moment for a short while, taking in the sights of their lovers as it became more than acceptable to do so. It only took one final beat for Annabelle to gather her thoughts and courage to gently raise Butch's head off the ground before swooping down to capture them in a sickeningly sweet kiss. There was no real point in hesitation, it seemed that all minds were made up. Annabelle found kissing them as simple as breathing air, despite a few minor hiccups and nose bumps in the earlier attempts of the day that were giggled off and corrected to become the forming of a perfect joining of two human souls, and promptly found Butch's necktie that was back pride of place after being returned the day prior to pull them into a deeper kiss. As they moved in perfect unison, it was clear. This love wasn't wrong at all. It was perfect, and sacred, and Annabelle was just fine in accepting that. Because she was content. The most content girl in the whole of the wild west and beyond. And if Butch permitted, she would be for the rest of her damn life.