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"Let me get that for you, pretty baby," Bill said from behind her. He reached up to coat the top part of their kitchen wall with yellow paint. They had been working on it all afternoon, and he often had to paint the parts she couldn't reach.
"So small," he teased her, now having finished painting the wall and kissing the back of her head. She turned to hug him, still gently, it had only been a day since he had been let out of the hospital. He had been kept in the hospital for a week to make sure that he was alright and that infections from the bullet didn't appear. They didn't. So just yesterday, he had been released. Or more accurately they had been released, since she hadn't left his side. May and Luna had left, and occasionally they had dropped in during the week to visit.
But Hillary had never left.
She would never leave him again.
"I'm not small, Bill," she protested, but his tall body and warm arms made her feel safe.
"Yes you are. I love it. It's adorable," he responded and planted another kiss on top of her head. They had grown more affectionate with each other. Even though he had slept a lot throughout his hospital stay, his hand had always been intertwined with hers; and the occasional times when his eyes had fluttered open, he had looked at her with so much love.
Now, she was glad he was awake, fully. Yesterday, upon being released from the hospital in the late evening, and stumbling back into their home, he had been still groggy, but awake enough to smile in joy at being back in their house together, the two of them.
They had laid up in bed together, and he had been the first to fall asleep. She had stayed up just to watch him, his face completely at peace.
Then, this morning he had woken her up with kisses and they had a mission: redecorate their house.
So they had driven to campus and had retrieved their things and Cotton from their dorm rooms. They had moved the furniture, and had come up with the idea of painting the kitchen yellow.
So they had.
Now in his arms, she felt completely at home.
"You're my home, Bill," she whispered into his chest.
Never again would she ever doubt that his arms were where she belonged.
"You're my home too," he said softly. Then he scooped her up in the air and held her in his arms bridal style.
"Be careful! You just got out of the hospital," she said but giggled anyways as he spun her around in circles making her dizzy.
This was what she had needed all her life.
She needed his hyperness, his joy, and his childish ways. It balanced her out, and made her whole. So as he spun her around, she felt at peace. He looked so beautiful laughing away and the background of the freshly painted yellow wall made his ever changing eyes stand out. At last he set her down on the ground again, her head spinning, but she didn't mind, her head always spun around him.
"I'm not going to the hospital again. I feel fine and I'm just so happy everything has worked out," he said.
And everything had indeed worked out.
Packer had been taken into custody for shooting Bill, but the senator had bailed him out.
Money always seemed to triumph justice.
That didn't bother them, it only increased their ambition to become lawyers more.
What money couldn't triumph however was the fallout the incident had created. Packer wasn't allowed back into Yale, the senator was receiving backlash, and the royals had all dispersed.
Everything had fallen into place.
"We're back to that famous Hillary thinking that made me fall for you at the beginning," he said breaking into her thoughts.
She looked at him.
The beginning, it now seemed so long ago. Those first memories of them were so precious to her now.
Him cleaning her dress, and him kissing her for the first time.
"I'm just thinking about you, always you," she answered simply.
Because words would always fall short of what she felt for him. She could describe it or put it in poetry but she could never make anyone feel what she felt.
His eyes softened at her words.
"I have an idea," he said.

 

His idea had turned out to be for them to move the table against the wall of the kitchen and to create a fort using their pillows and blankets.
This way, they could enjoy the paint and watch it dry together while being curled up comfortably. Maybe it was childish, but for her he was a child.
Gone forever now were his bad boy persona and his cold demeanor.
For her he was always going to be humble and whole.
"I like this. I feel safe," she said from where she was lying on his torso. Her words touched him. They always would.
He had hated how his medications had caused him to sleep throughout his stay in the hospital, because he hadn't been able to hear her sweet words. Still, their was a beauty to it, because every time he woke up, she had been there, unflinching and never leaving his side. She shifted on him, moving so she could look up at him.
"Is famous Bill thinking a thing now too?" She teased. Her eyes were shining and laying here on their kitchen floor surrounded in blankets, he had never felt so at ease.
"I can think, occasionally," he answered playfully.
"Yes, but don't think too hard you'll hurt yourself."
At that, he gently squeezed her hips causing his favorite sound in the world: her laugh.
"I'm thinking of you though," he said. She snagged a quick kiss from him.
"In that case think on," she answered then went back to resting her head on his chest.
They laid there for a while in silence, and the sound of her breathing was enough.
This was enough.
He would never want anything more.
They had come full circle and things were like before.
Of course different in a way, they had both grown but so had their love.
"Billy?" She asked softly, finally breaking their comfortable silence.
"Yes, pretty baby?" He inquired urging her to go on. She sighed, but then went on.
"I know you love me, I do. It's just I've been wondering, would you have noticed me if Scott hadn't chosen me? Would you have noticed me if it weren't for the bet?" She asked innocently, there was no malice or hurt in her voice. He was grateful for that.
He had thought of this question before and he had long ago came up with an answer.
"Yes. I would have noticed you. Maybe not right away but I'm sure I would have. I told you that it was in the museum where I started to truly notice how beautiful you are. It drove me insane at first because I had never been attracted to anyone like that, beyond the physical. I know now that it's because you're my person, it was always you from the very beginning."
He loved the feeling of her petite body in his arms, and how someone so small could give him the whole world.
"You're so good to me," she whispered and snuggled into him. She yawned, and that made him smile. He knew that she had stayed up throughout the hospital stay, refusing to sleep just in case he had woken up.
"Get some rest," he cooed softly. Always softly for her, only she could bring about this gentleness in him.
"But I want to talk to you, and kiss you, and love on you," she protested, but her words were already slurring. She sounded so much like he had some time ago, when he had been the one protesting sleep.
"I'll be here when you wake up, and I'll love on you while you're asleep," he said and began to stroke her hair to show that he intended to make due on his promise. Her breathing slowed into that gentle rhythm and he knew she was asleep.
This was his girl.
His sun, his moon, and all his stars. He continued to listen to the melody of her breathing.

 

She was aware she was dreaming. She knew this because in the dream she was pregnant and she was sitting outside on a porch of a different house.
One hand was over her stomach and she felt the gentle kick of her unborn child.
It was sunny, and a million rays fell on her skin. Somehow she knew it was Arkansas. It was as if her dream self just knew this and didn't question it.
Then, a car pulled up.
Out came Bill.
He looked very much the same except he had no stubble, and his hair was neater, he was also wearing a suit.
In the dream, she ran up to him and he caught her in his arms. His lips came down on hers and the dream was so vivid that she could taste the kiss. Then they had pulled apart, his eyes so loving and taking her in. Then he had put one hand over her stomach, and he had felt a kick, his whole face lighting up. No words had been exchanged in the dream, or at least none that were vivid enough for her to remember. Dreams were strange like that, vivid one moment then vague the next. They stood there smiling.
Then she woke up.
The yellow walls of their kitchen came back into sight and she felt Bill's body under hers.
The dream was still on her mind. In her gut, she felt that she had just gotten a glimpse into the future, a premonition.
She felt Bill's lips resting on her hair and she was glad that he had made good on his intention of loving her while she had rested.
His words from earlier came back to her.
'You're my person, it was always you from the very beginning.'
She had meant what she had said, he was always good to her.
Now, she wanted to do something for him.
"Bill? I have an idea of my own," she said.

 

She had decided to bathe him how he had done for her. Like before, they stood under the hot water and she took in his naked sight, still handsome.
Her hand gently went to caress the stitches of where the bullet had hit him.
"It's okay. I'm better now," he assured her gently.
Always gently.
She nodded, and took his sponge in her hand. Like he had done for her, she began to run the soap soaked sponge over all of his body, over all of his smooth white skin. He trembled in pleasure at her touch, he had never been touched so gently in all his life.
She took notice of this, and of how much pleasure it brought him, and she wanted to bring him more pleasure.
She wanted to convey all her love and makeup for the physical contact they had lost in their time separate from each other.
She sank to her knees in front of his member. She looked so beautiful to him there, but he wondered at what she was doing.
"I love you, let me show you how much," she offered as explanation.
She took his member gently in her hands and began to kiss it lightly.
Then she took it in her mouth, and began to suck on it to pleasure him.
He sighed in complete euphoric satisfaction, because this felt new.
Again, she was continuing to heal him, continuing to make every sexual act pure and beyond physical.
Her hands went up grabbing at his shaft then her lips trailed kisses up the sensitive skin.
She paused and then left a kiss on each of his warm testicles.
"Let me finish you. Let me show how you how much you mean to me," she whispered.
He nodded, allowing her to. He felt close and he loved how she looked in front of him, her hair darkened and curling from the steaming shower. This was lust, arousal, bliss, and especially love all overlapping.
This is how it was meant to be.
Her lips and tongue sent him over the edge, and at last he came into her mouth. She swallowed his fluid, his love.
Blue eyes shined looking at stunning blue gray ones.
She knew that this was love.
This was her boy.
Her sun, her moon, and all her stars.

 

After the shower they had returned to their makeshift fort and blankets, and had held each other. She felt so at peace with him there, and with Cotton snuggled up between them, it felt like she belonged.
They talked for hours, about everything. They talked about classes, their hopes, their dreams and about them.
Now as they still laid there, no intention of moving, she focused on the yellow of the wall. She was sure her aura would match that color now, because she had never felt such joy.
She also assessed herself.
She had experienced trouble finding herself after her heartbreak, but now she knew who she was, maybe she had always known.
She was Hillary Rodham.
She was ambitious, skillful, happy, and loved. She was strong and her heartbreak had made her stronger.
She wasn't innocent anymore, but apart of her still had that innocent idealism, that torch of hope that would always thrive within her. There was no more fear that Bill wouldn't want her the same way since she was no longer innocent. That fear had been banished by his words. He had told her, 'I'll love you no matter what. In all forms you take and in every change you might take on. You'll always be Hillary to me. I'll love you even when you're old.'
And she hadn't told him to stop talking like that, because this time she could accept the words. The dream, the glimpse into the future, had restored her faith in growing old with him.
She also felt the same, she would love him no matter what.
And she would always be Hillary.
And he would always be Bill.
And together they could take on the world.