A/N: And we're back! This chapter is definitely going to have a high probability of Tate fangirling and hardcore squeeing.

Oh, How It Burns

"You ready for our next date?"

"Yeah." She playfully nudges him in the side. "Gonna pick me up in a fancy car?"

"You know it."

Neither of them mentions that Halloween is far away and access to the outside world is just a fantasy for them right now.

"I'll get you at 7."

She smiles at him and it never ceases to amaze him how happy that slight curling of her lips makes him feel.

"Don't be late."

She laughs softly, the sound bouncing around in his skull. He wants to commit it to memory so he will never forget that her laugh is worth everything, that her happiness is worth all of the back breaking, soul crushing pain he endures. She looks at him straight in the eyes and he feels dizzy with their intensity.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He is true to his word, arriving at her bedroom door with a bouquet of violets. She can't help but giggle at the obvious reference and he alternates between sheepishly looking at her and the floor. He holds them out to her.

"Too cheesy?"

She slides off the bed, her large mustard cardigan sweeping out behind her, and makes her way towards him. She grasps his hand holding the flowers and looks up at him through the fringe of her eyelashes.

"Yes. But I love them anyway."

He can't help himself – he knew he made a mental promise not to try to kiss her until after their date, but right now he couldn't care less. He stretches his neck over the bouquet, his nose assaulted with the warm, comforting smell of the flowers, and lightly kisses her. Her eyes fluttered shut and for a brief moment, all that existed was the two of them.

He hates to break away, but he knows he must or else he would just back her up against the bed and do unspeakable things to her and as much as he wants that, he knows she needs something else right now.

The eye contact between them after he slowly detaches his lips from hers would make fire seem cold and ice seem scorching.

"Come on, we should get a vase for these."

"Yeah, I'm sure we have one in the kitchen."

They journey down to the kitchen, hastily looking through all the cupboards until she shouts with delight that she has found one. After filling the crystal vase with water, she gently places the flowers in, skimming the petals with her fingertips. They return to her room so she can set the vase on her bedstand.

"There we go."

He takes her hand and turns her to face him.

"I'm glad you like them."

"How could I not, when they're from you?"

His heart swells with the kind of joy many people spend their whole lives wishing for. He asks her the same question as he did before, but this one seems more grave, teeming with implications that the first time didn't have.

"Are you ready?"

She places a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Always."

He leads her up the attic stairs despite the creaky protests of the wood under both their weights. But as soon as she reaches the top stair, he covers her eyes and she gives a squeak.

"Tate, what are you doing?"

"I want it to be a surprise. Come on, I'll help you up."

He pulls her up, his hands gripping hers, until she is safely on the landing. She feels him walk behind her, his hands sliding out of hers and onto her lower back, so he can guide her to wherever he wants.

"When can I open them?"

He quietly laughs at her impatience. "In a second."

They stop and his breath tickles her ear and sends shivers up and down her body. His hand slips away and the suspense is killing her.

"Now."

She awakens to a wonderland of lights – there are candles everywhere, giving the room a soft ambience she never would have thought possible in such a dark, tainted house. A thick blanket laden with food is spread on the floor – a salad with tomatoes and olives, a loaf of sourdough, and eggplant parmesan, one of her absolute favorite dishes.

She refuses to squeal because to do such a thing isn't like her at all, but she almost does. Almost.

"Oh, Tate, this is lovely."

"A lovely meal for an even lovelier woman."

She blushes at his flattery.

"Come on, you silly goose. Let's eat."

After dinner, they lay down on the blanket, watching the shadows play with each other and dance along the ceiling. Suddenly he sits up, propping his head on one hand to face her.

"I have another surprise for you."

She mirrors his stance, eyes shining with merriment and excitement.

"What is it?"

He grins and her heart melts because here, right in front of her, was the boy that she fell in love with the first time. Now she has gone and fallen in love with him again against all odds, against all obstacles, and she can't help but believe that their love story is one of the greatest love stories that have ever unfolded.

He pops up with the grace of a leopard and goes to a far corner. She smiles as she hears him fiddling with something that sounds like a lock and soon he returns, dragging an old trunk with him.

"What is this?"

He smirks and she knows that her heart is destined to remain a puddle of goo for the rest of the night, maybe indefinitely.

"Dress up."

"It's an old trunk filled with vintage clothes. I found it when I was exploring a while ago. I think it was left from one of the old owners."

He looks longingly at her as she is excitedly pawing through the clothes. She gasps as she pulls out a three-piece black suit and blood red tie and thrusts them towards him, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

"You must try these on."

"Okay."

He goes a little ways away to dress, stripping off his shirt first so she can see the muscular curves of his shoulder blades. She hungrily stares at him and he can feel her desire emanating in waves. He drops his pants and tries to hide the effect that her look is having on him.

"So I get to choose what you'll be wearing. That's only fair."

Her face breaks into a smirk and he groans because this is a battle that he is never going to win.

"Ah ah, I want to choose."

He starts to protest, but her look returns in full force and he knows he is helpless to deny her.

"I want to surprise you now."

She has yet to emerge from the corner she retreated to after quickly snagging the outfit she decided to try on. He can hear shuffling and the rustling of fabric and he is quite sure the anticipation would have killed him if he weren't already dead.

"Hello there, handsome."

She steps out back into the light and his jaw hits the floor because she looks utterly ravishing.

A one shoulder, deep red gown hugs her curves with an off-centered slit traveling halfway up her thigh. Her hands are encased in simple lace black gloves that go up beyond her elbows, which correspond with the beautiful lace fascinator that adorns her head with half the lace falling over her face. Her hair floats in soft waves around her shoulders and he can make out a bold rhinestone necklace gracing her neck and small rhinestone earrings sparkling in her ears.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"You look stunning." He was wondering how and when he somehow got his mouth to work while he was still gawking at her like an idiot.

"You look quite dashing yourself."

He approaches her slowly, afraid that she was a dream, a fairy, an angel who would fly away out of his grasp if he got too close. She was too blindingly, heart achingly, enchantingly beautiful to be real.

He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

"So now what do we do?"

"You ask me to dance."

She raises one eyebrow as if issuing a challenge and he playfully smiles back. He extends his hand to her and the way they look at each other is so consuming and incinerating that he knows, just knows, that right then the tide pulling her away from him receded again, another small victory in the war.

"Will you do me the honor of this dance?"

She places her hand in his and he spins her into his body so that they are pressed up against each other. His hands encircle the small of her back and hers loop around his head to rest clasped over his shoulders. She giggles as he twirls her once before resuming their original swaying.

"What's so funny?"

"I just never thought you would be a good dancer."

"You wound me, my fair lady."

"I didn't mean to insult you. I just always imagined you as having two left feet."

He suddenly dips her low, extending one hand to run down her exposed leg and smirking when she involuntarily shivers at the sultry gesture.

"I'm glad to have exceeded your expectations."

He returns her upright and she lays her head on his chest as they sway from side to side.

"I could spend forever like this."

"We can. We will."

With her head on his chest and his face in her hair, they lose track of time and sway until the sun rises, content in the silence which communicates all they need to know. And with the sun dawning a new day, he hears she say it, ever so softly.

"I love you."

A/N: AWWWW. Reviews are loved.