So in addition to currently being obsessed with all things In the Heights, I am in love with Fiddler on the Roof. My favorite couple is Tevye and Golde, and while looking through the limited Fiddler stories on fanfiction, I decided they needed some love. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not keep my balance using tradition. I also am not learning how to mend and clean and fix. I guess that means I don't own anything.

Tevye's attention was drawn by the sound of soft laughter. Turning, he saw Hodol and Perchik walking together, their hands laced together, half turned towards each other. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, not out of anger, but confusion. He did not understand how his daughter could love this stranger, this man she barely knew.

Love is something that is learned, not found. Tevye had grown up hearing these words whispered to his tearful older sisters by their mother, whispered behind the rough cotton blanket held up by crude pins to separate his room from theirs. He had never understood his sisters' fear of marriage, thinking that, just like work and dress, it was a tradition. It was something that was to be accepted and not argued with.

Tevye had met Golde on his wedding day, his first glimpses of her shielded by a thin white veil. He had shuffled his feet anxiously, not certain of the ceremony, of what he was supposed to do. Golde had avoided his eye as he looked at her, fingers trembling when his clumsy hands put a ring on her finger. His hair was slicked back under his hat, thin frame covered by a crisp white shirt and jacket. He remembered how the sleeves had been too short, how his wrists had been cold.

Golde had shied away from his hand when he searched for hers under the table at the celebration, he remembered. She turned from his smile when he glanced at her, never looking anywhere but at the chipped plate before her. When she thought he wasn't looking she had allowed tears to drip onto the plate.

Tevye had not understood why Golde was so upset. It confused him to see her so sad on her wedding day, to see her crying when she should be smiling and laughing. He had spoken to her, he remembered, but she had not answered him, staring determinedly at the plate. She must have ingrained its pattern in her mind permanently from all the time she had spent looking at it. Tevye never mentioned this, but he had noticed similarities between the small flowers circling around the plate and those she embroidered when she had finished cleaning and cooking.

Tzeitel had fallen into his arms, sobbing, when he had announced her engagement to Lazar Wolf, and Tevye had still not understood. Lazar was, no doubt, older than Tzeitel had been expecting, but it was a good match. He was well off, a good man, and would be able to care for her even after his death. It was part of tradition, the papa choosing the husband for his daughter.

But what was he to do? Was he to condemn his daughter to a life of unhappiness, to see her pretty face so sad for the rest of her days? He loved her; he wanted to make her happy; he wanted to see her smile.

And so he had told Tzeitel that she would not have to marry Lazar Wolf. Tzeitel had seemed so happy, so relieved, that Tevye could not imagine forcing her to marry him. But when she had told him that she loved Motel the tailor, Tevye had been confused.

How was it that the two of them could love each other? They had been friends since they were very small, but Tevye did not understand. Love came after marriage, never before. But there, in Tzeitel's eyes, had been the same sparkle he had seen countless times in his own mother's eyes as she looked at his father.

How could he possibly deny the two of them? So he had accepted Motel as a son-in-law, convinced Golde to accept the boy into the family, had dealt with Lazar Wolf's disappointment.

But Tevye still did not understand. He watched Hodol and Perchik from a distance, under the pretense of feeding his horse. The two did nothing but smile at each other, fingers entwined and faces flushed pink. Occasionally Perchik would pull Hodol closer to him, teasingly brushing his nose against hers, leaning as if to kiss her. It gave Tevye a slight comfort to see that they never did, however much they wanted to.

A frown crossed over Tevye's face. Do I love Golde? he wondered. He heaved a sigh, posture slumping slightly as he realized that his daughters, his little, oh-so-young daughters, knew better than he did what love was.

Looking back, he supposed he loved Golde. He was supposed to, wasn't he? The two had held hands secretly under the table during the Sabbath meal at Tevye's parents' house and would occasionally exchange glances. Sometimes Tevye would wink at her and watch her lips twitch upward slightly. Sometimes, to this day, he would come home from his errands when he knew his daughters would be out and sit outside, back resting against the barn, and look at the house, knowing Golde was inside. He would breathe deeply, relishing the scents that would travel from the open window.

Once Golde had found him outside and had screeched at him to stop lazing around and to get back to work. He had smiled lazily at her for a few moments, watching the way her mouth moved and the way her eyebrows knit together. When she had walked over and slapped him neatly on the arm, he had rose to his feet, feeling his back crick as he did so, saying, "All right, All right, I'm going…"

The men in town had asked him why he was smiling that day. He had not told them anything, instead giving each a little extra milk. On the way home, he had laughed to himself, the chuckle warming him from the inside out. Golde had berated him for being silly, but Tevye had only smiled at her and given each of his daughters a kiss on the head. He had tried to do the same to Golde, but she had ducked away from his reaching arms and picked up the pot of soup, effectively blocking his embrace.

He remembered their first night together, how she had kept her embroidery on her knees late into the night. Tevye had tried to speak with her, to ask her questions about herself, but Golde had pretended not to hear. When he asked her what she was making, what was so important that it could not wait until morning, she had shot him a cold look, enough to make him close his mouth and scoot away from her slightly. "I am going to bed," he had announced, pulling the blanket up over his head and lying down.

Tevye remembered how Golde had remained dutifully at her needlepoint for hours after. She thought he had been asleep by the time she, too, pulled the blanket over her head and curled up beside him. Golde had fallen asleep before Tevye had, and he remembered how she moved closer to him as she slept. He had put a gentle arm around her small form, keeping her warm. He smiled at her under the blanket, through the darkness, until he too, fell asleep.

Tevye entered his house, noticing Golde and wondering if he loved her. He watched her move about the house from the doorway for a moment, relishing the contented feeling it gave him. After a while she noticed him standing there and told him to sit down, told him to eat some of the soup. Tevye told her that he had given Perchik and Hodol permission to marry.

"Perchik is a good man. I like him. He's a little crazy, but I like him. And, what's more important, Hodol likes him. Hodol loves him. So what can we do? It's a new world, Golde, a new world. Love…" Tevye felt his expression soften and a sigh escaped him. He looked sideways at Golde, the question he had been longing to ask her caught on the tip of his tongue. "Golde, do you love me?"

She was flustered, he could tell. "Do I what?" Golde looked surprised that he should be asking such a question, as if it were silly, trivial, a waste of time, even.

"Do you love me?" Tevye repeated, his voice insistent and his eyes watching her, daring her to look at him.

"Do I love you?" Golde repeated, thoughtful this time. She looked back at him, her eyes lingering somewhere around his shirt, never quite meeting his eye. "With our daughters getting married and this trouble in the town, you're upset; you're worn out." She looked away from him, picking up Tevye's bowl of soup and demanding, "Go inside; go lie down!" She walked a few paces away, saying, "Maybe it's indigestion," as if thinking to herself.

"No, Golde, I'm asking you a question!" Tevye insisted. "Do you love me?"

"You're a fool!" Golde told him, turning to look at him with her eyebrows furrowed. The soup in the bowl she held sloshed about inside, threatening to spill over the rim.

"I know," Tevye said, a slight chuckle playing about his words. "But do you love me?" He pressed on, not wanting Golde to escape his question.

"Do I love you?" Golde repeated again, pouring his soup back into the pot.

"Well?" Tevye asked impatiently.

"For twenty-five years I've washed your clothes, cooked your meals, cleaned your house, given you children, milked the cow." Golde pointed out sarcastically. "After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?"

"Golde," Tevye felt his expression soften again, and he stood up and moved around the table so as to stand near her, "the first time I met you was on our wedding day. I was scared," he admitted, looking at her shyly.

"I was shy," Golde said, looking away from him towards the floor. Tevye followed her glance, to a small crack in the wood, before saying, "I was nervous."

"So was I," Golde told him.

"But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other," Tevye remembered. He remembered how his father had clapped him on the back, how his mother had cupped Golde's chin in her hand, smiling warmly at her. "And now I'm asking, Golde, do you love me?"

"I'm your wife!" Golde said, as if this answered the question. She walked over to stand near the curtain that hung by their bed, fingers clutching it gently.

"I know," Tevye said, raising one eyebrow slightly, "but do you love me?"

"Do I love him?" Golde asked the curtain, passing it through her fingers.

"Well?" Tevye was being impatient again. He wanted Golde to tell him; he wanted to know.

"For twenty-five years I've lived with him, fought with him, starved with him," Golde told the curtains again, releasing them from her grasp. "Twenty-five years my bed is his," Golde looked over her shoulder at him, a soft smile playing about her lips, "if that's not love, what is?"

"Then you love me!" Tevye exclaimed, tripping over his feet in his haste to join Golde by her spot near the curtain. His face broke into a smile, boyish pride evident in his eyes. He pointed to Golde, his finger shaking with excitement.

"I suppose I do," Golde said thoughtfully, turning to look at him. Her hand went to the curtains again, toying with the fringe.

"And I suppose I love you to," Tevye told her, taking her hand away from the curtains and entwining his fingers with hers. The two sat down on their small bed together, looking thoughtfully off into the distance.

"It doesn't change a thing, but even so…" they said together, voices hushed, "after twenty-five years, it's nice to know."

Tevye looked at Golde with a smile tugging at his cheeks, pleased to see her lips turned up as she looked off towards the wall. Nudging her gently, Tevye leaned closer and kissed her cheek gently. Golde's cheeks tinged pink as she turned to look at him, a rare sparkle in her eyes.

Almost awkwardly, Tevye put his free hand on Golde's waist, and she scooted a bit closer to him. Sticking his head out chicken-like, Tevye kissed Golde's lips, feeling her kiss him back ever so slightly. He pulled back, as if afraid, smiling goofily at her.

Golde suddenly slapped his arm and cried, "What are you doing home at this hour? You should be in town finishing your deliveries!" Grumbling, Tevye rose from the bed and headed for the door.

"Tevye?" Golde asked tentatively. Tevye turned, seeing her still sitting on the bed.

"Golde?" he asked, uncertain of her sudden meekness. He lingered inside the doorway as Golde stood up, walking towards him slowly. She smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it lovingly.

"Be safe," she said earnestly.

"I love you," he told her, turning to go. He did not look back at her as he left for town, not wanting her to see the silly grin that had remained on his face. Similarly, Golde did not call to him to turn back, not wanting Tevye to see the equally silly grin on hers.